


a case of mistaken identity

by MaddieContrary



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: CEO Hannibal, College Student Will, M/M, Mistaken Identity, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sugar Baby Will, Sugar Daddy Hannibal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:56:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 41,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28240521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaddieContrary/pseuds/MaddieContrary
Summary: Blue eyes. Curly, brown hair. Pale features. Will be seated at the bar, dressed in midnight blues.That was the only description Hannibal received that leads him to finding Will, who is drinking alone at a bar. Suffice to say, the night takes an unexpected turn for the two of them.OR:Will gets mistaken for an escort by CEO Hannibal, and things happen (wink wonk).
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 290
Kudos: 1058





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [OmniOstler](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OmniOstler/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was based on one of Ostler's ever-amazing treasure trove of prompts: "CEO Hannibal is gifted an escort, but he confuses the description of the escort with Will - who just so happens to be at the same hotel bar as the one Hannibal is supposed to wait at."
> 
> Beta'd by [Kai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kai_99/pseuds/Kai_99), as always <3 Any remaining mistakes are mine.

When closing deals, Hannibal is accustomed to receiving all sorts of gifts as tokens of appreciation over the years. Most of the companies he’s dealt with are grateful for being able to close a deal with one of the more well-known Fortune 500 companies, as it’s a stepping stone to become in the running for that same title. The gifts are typically not overly extravagant, and some of them are even thoughtful, clearly having Hannibal’s taste in mind. 

Hannibal generally accepts the small gifts, even though as the CEO of his company he truly doesn’t need the addition to his mountains of possessions. It’s only polite to accept the gifts you’re given, after all.

However, he was surprised when one of the businessmen he had brokered a deal with – a Mr. Friedman – gifted him with something completely unexpected: an escort.

He was so stunned at the audacity of the gift – discretely given through a business card that only bears a date, a location, and a description of said escort – that he didn’t even have the chance to reject before Friedman slapped his shoulder and gave him a knowing grin, as if they were both co-conspirators. Friedman had departed with a “you’re welcome, and enjoy” before Hannibal could stop him, still frozen in place at the displeasure coursing through him.

Shockingly rude.

In any case, that’s how Hannibal finds himself entering the bar of one of the hotels in downtown Baltimore. It’s a nice hotel, discrete in its decorations and clientele at first glance. It’s not exactly an upscale sort of hotel by any means, but pleasant enough for a stay; Hannibal certainly wouldn’t be recognized by anyone patronizing this sort of establishment. As far as he’s aware, the hotel itself doesn’t seem to be running as a cover for a brothel, so at least Friedman wouldn’t be going into his Rolodex just yet.

(He might end up there eventually, however, depending on how this evening ends.)

Since he wasn’t given a phone number to contact, only the address for the meet-up, the only reason Hannibal is here at all is because he’s planning to let the escort know that he won’t be requiring their services before exiting the situation cleanly. If he requires anyone to warm his bed, he has plenty of people who would be only too willing to jump at the chance without being paid for it. Truly, how patronizing of Mr. Friedman to think that Hannibal would need any services of this sort.

But no matter – he just needs to find this escort, and he will be done with it before the night ends.

He has memorized the description written on the business card earlier before burning it, and now he searches for the figure that most resembles this escort.

_Blue eyes. Curly, brown hair. Pale features. Will be seated at the bar, dressed in midnight blues._

Entering the bar lounge at the hotel lobby, Hannibal sweeps his eyes over the area before locating the bar. The general atmosphere of the area is tasteful, even by Hannibal’s standards. There are only a handful of other patrons around, most of them clustered in several areas, too engaged in their conversation to take notice of Hannibal’s entrance. There’s soft jazz music playing in the background as Hannibal slowly makes his way to the bar, his eyes scanning the four people currently seated there.

Amongst the four, two of them are seated and conversing softly with each other with no care to anyone else, and so Hannibal ignores them. Hannibal immediately disregards the blonde woman who’s chatting with the bartender, as she, too, doesn’t fit the description given.

This leaves the other lone person sitting at the bar, currently nursing his drink in a secluded corner, seated far away from the rest of the patrons.

He’s rarely taken by surprise by a person’s look, but Hannibal’s breath catches as he gazes upon this lone patron at the bar, the low lighting throwing a soft glow on his bored countenance. Hannibal appreciates art in all forms, and he thinks that the young man he’s looking at is one such piece of art – the boy’s pointed, delicate features are framed by soft curls, his mouth curled in a moue of disappointment when he looks into his empty glass. His eyes, even from a few paces away, look startlingly blue. 

He certainly matches the descriptions, if his profile is anything to go by. Hannibal appreciates the view for a few more seconds, his mind doing a mental recalculation of tonight’s plans. Perhaps Mr. Friedman might survive, after all.

Will sighs into his drink, his eyes downcast as he ignores his surroundings, trying to drown his sorrow in the beer he’s ordered. The beer is good, for a hotel bar, and Will doesn’t even mind paying a pretty penny for it – he’s not exactly in the mood to walk out and find another bar elsewhere in a neighborhood he isn’t quite familiar with.

He’s here for a job interview; one which he probably tanked, judging by the way the interviewer had smiled pityingly when he ushered Will out of the building after his interview.

He’d been hoping that the interview would go well. He’s graduating soon, and he’s hoping to find a job somewhere in Washington or somewhere nearby. So far, his prospects are looking bleak. 

Having had to prepare himself for the one-day interview in Baltimore, Will had booked a room in the hotel tonight, thinking it would be easier rather than taking the two-hours train to George Washington once his interview concluded. The hotel itself fits his purpose. Affordable, for the most part, considering he’s still hanging on his scholarship, and it’s near the office where he went for the interview.

With his mind circling back to the interview, Will sighs again, wishing there’s something he can do to take his mind off his anxiety of not finding a source of income in the next few months. Once his scholarship dries up, he’d be shit out of luck if he doesn’t find a job soon. He might even need to move back to New Orleans, and that wasn’t something he’s looking forward to, considering he’d tried to put a lot of distance between him and his hometown years ago.

“May I have a seat?”

Will is startled out of his reverie at those words, and he turns to the sound of the voice. Instead of answering, Will nods silently, glancing around the bar to see that there are other empty seats around them.

Confused, he frowns before he turns back to the man seated beside him. Will takes in the man’s smart appearance as he orders a drink, eyes lingering on his face before he forces his gaze away. 

Handsome in a silver fox way, older than Will by possibly a decade judging by his countenance and greying hair. He’s dressed somewhat ostentatiously in his three-piece suit, which would have looked ridiculous on anyone else, but suits him surprisingly well. He carries himself well; confident and suave with his words, his voice tinted with an accent Will couldn’t quite place. 

So. A well-to-do businessman, then. Someone who’s used to other people kowtowing to his whims. There’s something vaguely familiar about him, but Will doesn’t have time to recall where he might’ve seen that face before his attention is caught once more.

“So what brings you here tonight to this fine establishment?” the man asks, smiling at Will as if they share a private joke. He extends a hand out to Will, and Will catches the sight of a very expensive watch underneath the suit jacket. “Hannibal Lecter.”

The name sounds vaguely familiar as well, though Will files it away for later. Avoiding the man’s eyes, he shakes his hand tentatively. “I’m Will. Uh, Will Graham.”

“Is that your real name?” Hannibal asks, almost teasing.

Will’s brow furrows in confusion. “Uh, as far as I know.”

Hannibal looks similarly confused before the moment passes, and he resumes his questioning. “So, Will Graham, I ask you again. What brought you here?”

Will looks around and gestures to the room at large, smiling wryly. “Same as everyone else, I guess. Some sort of business needing to be done.”

“I hope it’s a pleasurable sort of business,” Hannibal says with a grin. He looks away from Will when the bartender hands him his drink.

With his empathy working into overdrive, Will assesses Hannibal silently as the man nurses his drink. It’s somewhat baffling to think that Hannibal had come here with the express intention of flirting with someone like Will, but he’s hard-pressed to think of any other reason anyone would be talking to him right now. While he’s usually pretty bad at picking up romantic cues, Hannibal’s intention is so clear that it sort of punched Will in the face with how overt it is.

Licking his lips, Will orders another drink from the bartender, thinking that he might as well have another drink with how the day is going. Who knows where this night might end up for him?

Apparently, the night ends up with Will on his back in his hotel room, Hannibal moving above him as he fucks into Will.

Though he’s certainly not complaining, Will does have some time to wonder at the quick turn of events that takes them from the bar to Will’s hotel room. He wasn’t planning on getting laid tonight, not least by someone who looks like he could be someone’s father, and well, _that_ train of thought certainly drives him to new heights.

“Oh, fuck,” he whispers, hanging on to Hannibal’s shoulders. 

Hannibal is surprisingly muscular under his ridiculously well-tailored suit. There’s no give to his body when Will writhes beneath him, the older man pinning him bodily onto the bed as he thrusts into Will. It’s too much in all the best ways, and he’s sure he’s digging bruises into Hannibal’s skin by the end of tonight. His grip tightens when Hannibal grazes against the bundle of nerves that has him seeing stars. 

“Oh god, _Hannibal_ ,” he whines.

Strange, how the man’s name feels oddly familiar and satisfying on his tongue after knowing him for less than an hour. The riveting conversation they had earlier is nothing compared to _this_ , the feeling of being filled and fucked so passionately, something he hasn’t experienced in… well, ever. He’s had flings before, fumbles in the dark with girlfriends (and sometimes boyfriends), but those fleeting and forgettable encounters are nothing compared to this, to being fucked by an older man who knows what he’s doing.

Hannibal only grunts in response, the sound sending shivers down Will’s spine.

“You feel divine, Will,” Hannibal mutters, leaving biting kisses on Will’s throat.

Will huffs a little at the words, though it sounds less pretentious coming from Hannibal. He arches his back, exposing his throat and encouraging Hannibal to bite him with a desperate moan. Tomorrow, he might think back on his foolishness at letting the man mark him so thoroughly, but tonight he just wants to feel _something_ other than despair over his future _._

“Please,” Will whispers, closing his eyes and moaning in pleasure as Hannibal increases his pace, the brush on his prostate insistent and definitely intentional on Hannibal’s part. “Oh, _there_ , please, please, I’m so close.”

Hannibal seems similarly affected, the man pulling away slightly to look down at Will as he spreads Will’s legs further before thrusting into him with some force. The slight change in angle and the punishing thrusts has Will almost sobbing, bemoaning the loss of stimulation to his prostate.

“Hannibal, please,” he whimpers, hands gripping tightly on the sheets beneath him.

“You’ll come when I’m finished with you, Will,” Hannibal growls, a wicked gleam in his eyes.

Will whines at that, his body aching for more and his cock twitching at the threat and promise in Hannibal’s voice. “Yes, please, whatever you want, just— oh god, please just fuck me.”

The chuckle from the other man sounds breathless, and Hannibal leans in to take Will’s lips in his, all while he keeps on with his assault into Will’s willing body. Hannibal’s hands move to Will’s, clasping their hands together as he gives Will just what he needs, but never enough. The slide of their sweat-slicked bodies and the sounds of their coupling grounds Will to the present moment, and he’s desperate for more, enough to move himself to meet Hannibal’s thrusts.

Hannibal grunts in appreciation, lavishing Will with softer kisses and rewarding him with a thrust to his prostate once more. Will squirms with pleasure, panting into Hannibal’s mouth, relishing the way the man’s hands are so tight in his, a small indication that Hannibal is similarly affected. He squeezes Hannibal’s clasped hands in encouragement, letting out sounds he never thought he would make in his entire life while Hannibal pounds him into the mattress.

Will is beginning to lose the sense of time when one of Hannibal’s hands snake in between their bodies to grasp Will’s leaking cock, the action drawing a strangled moan out of Will. With one of his hands now free, Will winds his fingers into Hannibal’s hair and moans with abandon when Hannibal begins to stroke him in time with his thrusts.

“Come for me, Will,” Hannibal murmurs against his lips, eyes heavy with desire.

It only takes a few more strokes before Will is coming between them, and he shouts in ecstasy and relief. Hannibal continues to thrust into him for several minutes, Will’s body clenching rhythmically through the aftershocks of his orgasm. Hannibal finally comes with a satisfied groan, leaving one last bite on Will’s throat as he climaxes. He’s thankful for the condom he’s insisted on (even more thankful that he had one on him, never mind that he’s had it in his wallet for months), though he can’t help thinking there’s something erotic at the thought of Hannibal’s seed pooling into him. He shivers at the image. Perhaps that should remain as a fantasy, at least for now.

Will lets out a soft grunt when Hannibal pulls out of him, his eyes already heavy with drowsiness. He’s barely aware of Hannibal leaving him on the bed, and he lets out a contented sigh when he feels Hannibal cleaning him up with a warm, damp washcloth. Yawning, Will cracks his eyes open and just watches Hannibal wipe him down.

Hannibal gives him a gentle smile when he sees Will looking at him, and Will rather likes how rumpled the man looks compared to the stylized appearance he had earlier.

“You should get some rest,” Hannibal says, picking up the clothes they had thrown aside earlier.

Will swallows, his voice soft as he asks, “You’re not staying?”

Hannibal pauses in the act of putting his underwear on (silk briefs, Will notes wonderingly) as he considers Will’s words. He puts them on before he stands and tilts his head in curiosity. “Would you like me to stay?”

Will can’t quite control the blush spreading across his face, but he nods slightly, avoiding Hannibal’s eyes. “I mean— if you’d like to but if you have to be somewhere else, I won’t keep you.” It’s probably a bit foolish to offer in the first place, and Will can only blame his post-orgasm haze for the words tumbling out of his mouth.

He’s surprised when Hannibal silently joins him in bed once more, the older man looking pleased at the invitation. Will scoots to one side of the bed to make room for him, and they settle themselves against one another. It should feel odd, sleeping next to a stranger who fucked the living daylights out of him, but there’s something comforting about it as well. Too tired to think about it, Will shuffles closer to Hannibal and takes comfort in the warmth of the other man’s body before he closes his eyes.

Will has forgotten all about the terrible day he’s had by the time sleep takes him.

Hannibal fucks him again the next morning after waking Will up with soft kisses and insistent hands. It’s a great feeling to wake up to, admittedly, and Will doesn’t complain when he ends up riding Hannibal, kneeling over the older man’s lap as he fucks himself on that perfect cock. Will can’t remember the last time he had enjoyed sex so much. Hannibal is an attentive partner, if a little rough at times (though Will likes the roughness too).

Will sighs and moans at feeling so full, and Hannibal’s possessive grip on his waist is starting to feel addictive. Hannibal’s gaze is hot on him as Will moves up and down on the man’s cock, trying to find the angle that would make him see stars. Once he finds it, Will’s moans turn into grunts of pleasure as he practically bounces himself on Hannibal’s lap, chasing the pleasure until he can feel the telltale signs of his impending orgasm.

He comes within minutes, gasping in pleasure before Hannibal flips their position and fucks into him with erratic thrusts. Hannibal comes soon after, his breath hot against Will’s ear as he stills inside Will’s pliant and sated body.

They shower separately after exchanging soft, lazy kisses. Will feels weird that he _doesn’t_ find this whole thing to be weird. Apparently, all he needed to relax was a good fuck. Who knew sex with an attentive partner could be so therapeutic? He lets out a little laugh of disbelief while he’s in the shower, wondering what his life has come to at this point.

When Will emerges out of the showers with a towel wrapped around his waist, Hannibal is more or less dressed in last night’s clothes as he gives himself a once-over in the mirror. His dress shirt and pants look slightly crumpled, but other than that, Hannibal looks presentable once more.

Turning around, Hannibal catches his eyes and gives Will a small smile. “I’ve ordered room service for breakfast. I hope you don’t mind.”

Will blinks for a few seconds before he shakes his head. He does mind a bit, thinking about the money he doesn’t have. But he doesn’t want reality to come crashing in just yet, so he pushes the thought aside and makes a move to dress himself while Hannibal looks on silently.

Room service arrives a few minutes later, and Hannibal carries the tray inside the room and settles it on top of the bed. Will smiles at the rather unlikely situation he’s found himself in. “Breakfast in bed,” Will laughs, shaking his head. “Very traditional of you.”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to make do with the hotel’s food,” Hannibal says, sounding sincerely apologetic. “If I had the means to do it, I would prefer to prepare the food myself.”

Will’s face colors at the implication. A bit bold, to imply such intimacy considering they just met last night. Is it because he’s European? (Is he even European? The accent seems to point in that direction, but he knows he doesn’t know enough to make a bet on it.)

He avoids Hannibal’s gaze by sitting down on the bed, fully clothed once more, and looking at the meal Hannibal has ordered. It’s the standard breakfast that’s offered in most hotels – eggs and bacon, served with brewed coffee – but it smells enticing enough that Will begins eating before he frowns, noting the absence of another set.

“You’re not eating?” Will asks, turning to Hannibal.

“I’m afraid I have to leave soon,” Hannibal says. “I do have other business to take care of.”

“Oh,” Will says, trying not to sound disappointed. _Cool it, Graham, you barely know the man._ “Okay. Thanks for, uh… breakfast. Among other things.”

Hannibal smiles at the awkward phrasing, and he fastens the last of his cufflinks before he puts his suit jacket on. “I shall leave you to it, then.”

“Yeah,” Will says, his voice sounding small. He picks up the coffee and drinks it, for fear of saying something stupid like ‘don’t leave’. He’s apt to do something foolish while he’s still feeling vulnerable from yesterday’s setback, and he’s _not_ going to give in to that impulse once again. “Have a nice day.”

“Will.”

The simple word is enough to make Will stop drinking. Putting the cup of coffee back on the tray, he looks up to see Hannibal still staring at him with an inscrutable look on his face. Will swallows when Hannibal leans in for a kiss, and he quickly gives in even as his mind berates him for his weakness.

_Shut up, brain, let me have this, at least._

The kiss is soft and languid, and Will doesn’t do anything to deepen it; it’s enough to feel desired, at least in this. Will smiles when they pull away, grinning when he sees the way Hannibal tastes the coffee on his tongue.

“The coffee needs improvement,” Hannibal notes, his expression grave.

Will laughs at that. “You’re such a snob.”

Hannibal just looks at him for a moment, and the stare is beginning to unsettle Will before the older man speaks again. “I’d like to see you again if you’re amenable..”

Will would be embarrassed at how fast he nods in acquiescence, but he’s shoved embarrassment aside long ago when he’d agreed to join Hannibal in bed last night. “Yeah, I’d like that,” he stammers out.

“Excellent,” Hannibal says before handing Will a thick, white envelope. “I’ve included my number inside. Let me know when you’d be available next.”

Frowning, Will grabs the envelope and puts it on the bed, confused at the almost business-like manner the whole affair feels. “Uh. Sure.”

“I hope it’s been a pleasurable sort of business,” Hannibal says, echoing his words from last night with a small grin. “I’ll be seeing you again, Will.”

With that, Hannibal takes his leave, leaving Will alone with his jumbled thoughts and cooling coffee. Will opens the envelope after a few minutes, his eyes widening when he sees the number of crisp bills inside. He stares at it, shocked for several moments before he begins to count the money.

“What the fuck,” Will says to the room at large. He’s not expecting an answer, but he sure would appreciate an explanation of why Hannibal gave him a thousand dollars in cash after spending the night together.

Searching inside the envelope, he finds a blank business card with a phone number on it. Presumably, it’s Hannibal’s, but after what’s happened, Will is not so sure anymore. He’d likely give the number a call later, and he ignores the unsettled feeling in his stomach in favor of eating his now cold breakfast.

Not for the first time, he wonders just what his life has become.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was a second part to the prompt, which basically insinuates that this would end up going the Sugar Daddy Hannibal route (because of course it would). Might continue if my muse decides to cooperate.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I did not expect the number of people clamoring for Sugar Daddy Hannibal and Sugar Baby Will lol. Thank you all for the kudos, lovely comments and sacrifices for my muse (they work wonders!), I really appreciate it <3

Will is fuming by the time he reaches his apartment. The envelope with the money ( _one thousand freaking dollars,_ his mind chants all the way home) sits heavy in his backpack, and his scowl grows heavier at the reminder.

“Oh hey,” a voice calls out when Will enters the living room. “Didn’t think you’d be back so early, it’s barely eleven in the morning.”

“Hey, Bev,” he mutters, slumping into the couch. He has a pounding headache, and the stress over what happened earlier this morning is making it worse. 

There’s the sound of the fridge door being closed and a clinking of a spoon against a bowl. Judging by the sounds, Beverly is just having her late breakfast, as is her habit during the weekends. 

“Scoot,” she says as she makes her way to the couch Will is seated on.

Will groans, but he makes space for her anyway. He feels her settling next to him, and they stay silent while Beverly eats her cereal and milk, her eyes curious on him as he stares at nothing.

“What’s up, Graham?” she asks finally, still chewing on her cereal.

“Urgh, stop spitting on me.”

She nudges an elbow at his side. “Come on, you look like you could use an ear or two. Both of mine are working. Bad interview?”

Will snorts. “I wish.”

“Huh. What else could be worse than not getting the job?”

Will winces. “There’s…” Where does he even start? “I met someone last night.”

“Someone, huh?” Beverly laughs. “Okay, this is getting somewhere. Someone you met at the interview? A nice lady you can bring home?”

Will rolls his eyes. “Stop, you’re not that funny.”

“I am hilarious,” Beverly retorts. “Anyway, what’s wrong with meeting someone? It’s about time you move on from Alana. It’s been what, a year?”

He groans. “Why do you have to bring her up? And thanks for pointing out that people aren’t exactly lining up to meet me.”

Beverly shrugs. “I say it like it is. Girls find it hard to reconcile the idea of dating someone who’s prettier than them, I guess.”

Will laughs and throws a light punch to Beverly’s shoulder. “Shut up, I’m trying to tell you about this someone I met last night.”

“Did you get laid?” She frowns. “That wouldn’t explain the bad mood, though. So, you didn’t get laid and you’re mad about it?”

He struggles with what to say for a moment. “I met this guy at the hotel bar. Well, technically he hit on me, and then we talked. It was nice and… well, I slept with him.”

Beverly tilts her head. “Congrats, I guess? I thought you swore off guys after Matthew.”

Will groans. “Please stop reminding me of all my past mistakes.” 

Maybe he should have sworn off guys altogether, after what happened last night. Then again, maybe he should just swear off on any attempt of relationship ever if this is how things were going to go. 

Beverly stares at him expectantly. “Oh, come on, the date didn’t turn out that bad, did it?”

“That’s not the worst part. It’s… we had a nice time, and he even gave me his number so we could see each other again. But…”

“Come on, Will, out with it.”

He sighs. “He also gave me a thousand dollars along with his number.”

Beverly gapes at him for three seconds before she laughs. “What?”

“I know,” Will gripes. “What the fuck, right?”

“Dude, you got a thousand dollars! Why are you complaining?”

“Maybe because it makes it seem like I’m a hooker? He practically threw money at me after we slept together!”

“Okay, first of all, nothing wrong with being a sex worker. Second, you sure there weren't any crossed wires somewhere? He didn’t say anything about money before you guys slept with each other?” 

He tries to think back to what happened last night. The two of them had a nice conversation, and there wasn’t really anything that indicated that money was going to be exchanged at the end of their one night of (admittedly great) sex. He’s pretty sure he never gave the idea that he expected any money out of it, anyway. And, well, once they got to Will’s hotel room, there wasn’t much conversation to be had.

Will sighs. “I don’t know. I don’t think so? Like I said, we got to talking and I thought we were having a great time talking, and… well, I had a shit day after the interview, and he was hot.” 

Okay, in hindsight, maybe he shouldn’t have slept with Hannibal. 

“Seriously though, what the fuck?” Will says, frustrated.

“Who the hell just has a thousand dollars lying around?” Beverly muses, looking intrigued now. She puts aside her bowl of cereal – now soggy with neglect – on the coffee table and reaches for her phone. “What’s the name of the guy? Is he one of those rich entrepreneurs just looking for some good time?”

“Ugh, you know I have better taste than that,” Will replies, rolling his eyes.

“I’m just saying! I’m not one to judge,” she laughs. “So… not an entrepreneur. An older guy? Someone rich enough to just blow off a grand in a day, at least.”

He can feel his face burning when he mutters, “Yeah, he’s a lot older.”

“Like… late thirties? Early forties?” 

Anticipating Beverly’s reaction, he covers his face with his hands. “Uh… probably closer to late forties.”

Sure enough, Beverly launches into a peal of raucous laughter, hollering, “Will Graham, get that!” 

“Shut up! He was hot, okay! And maybe I drank more than I should.”

“You don’t seem hungover, though.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

Beverly chuckles. “Oh, you love me. No, seriously, what’s his name? Now I’m really curious. He must be loaded.”

Will sighs. “It’s Hannibal Lecter.”

“Hmm, doesn’t really ring a bell,” Beverly mutters as she enters the name into her phone. “I don’t think he has Facebook, he doesn’t have a profile on it at least.” 

“Yeah, he doesn’t seem like the type.”

“Maybe I should check Tinder.”

“Doesn’t seem like that type either,” Will says wryly. “He’s… he looks sort of like one of those old school gentlemen? I don’t think he uses those kinds of apps.” 

“Oh, wait, I should just google him,” Beverly says, typing rapidly into her phone. She clicks on a few links silently as she scrolls through the results. 

Will’s attention is caught when she gives a low whistle. “What?”

“Oh my god,” Beverly laughs. “Will Graham, _get that!_ ”

“Get what?” he asks, annoyed.

“‘Hannibal Lecter needs no introduction, being one of Baltimore’s Top 50 richest businessmen’,” she reads out, a delighted smile on her face. “‘In addition to his massive personal wealth, _The Baltimore Business Journal_ reported that his net worth has climbed up for this fiscal year as his company, Ravenstag & Co., brings in new and fresh partnerships. The CEO is known for being a consummate bachelor’… Holy shit, Will, you’re practically living out a fucked-up version of _Fifty Shades of Grey!”_

He frowns. “Fifty shades of what? No, wait, back up— Shit!” Will hisses. “That’s why he seemed so familiar. He works for that hack of a company?”

“Will,” Beverly says in between laughter, putting her phone down. “He’s the freaking CEO of a Fortune 500 company, how the hell did you even meet him?”

“I don’t know,” he groans. “But why the fuck did he pay me—” His words cut off as a thought hits him. “Did he… did he think I was an actual hooker?”

Beverly’s laughter stops then, and she frowns. “I don’t think so? How do you even make that kind of mistake?” 

“I don’t know!” Will almost screams the words. “Seriously, I’ve been stressing out over this for the last few hours. I still have the money in my bag, I don’t even know what to do with it!” 

“Keep it,” Beverly says simply. “This Lecter guy certainly wouldn’t miss it.”

“What, and let him think I really am a hooker?” 

Beverly shrugs. “Either that or you return the money.” She stares at him for a minute while he tries to make sense of things, and she lays a gentle hand on his twitching fingers. “Look, you need the money, don’t you? Just use it for now. Have you heard anything from any of the interviews?”

Will sighs. That’s another thing he should be worried about instead of some guy presuming to pay him for sex. 

“Not really,” he answers. “I’m waiting to hear from the company I went to yesterday, but I don’t think the interview went well, either.”

Beverly hums in sympathy. “Sorry, Will.”

“Don’t be, it’s not your fault.” He turns to her. “I can use the money to pay you the rent I still owe you.”

She shakes her head. “Nuh-uh. I told you, it’s on me. My parents don’t need the money anyway. They’re in Hawaii for a winter holiday right now, so that tells you something about the state of their business.” 

“I’m not a charity case,” he retorts. “If you don’t want the money, then I’m giving it back to him.”

She frowns. “Isn’t he in, like, Baltimore?”

“I can pay for a train ride,” he says stubbornly. 

She stares at him for another long moment before she shrugs. Clearly, she thinks he’s a lost cause (and well, she’s not wrong). “Okay, Graham, do what you have to. I’m just saying, if you need a place to live, you’re always welcomed to crash here until you find something.”

That draws a smile out of him. “Thanks, Bev, you’re the best. I’m still gonna pay you back.” 

Beverly rolls her eyes. “I keep telling you, just keep it. Whatever, do what you want. You wanna go out for some lunch or something? Coffee?”

“Yeah, sure,” he sighs. “Could use some fresh air outside. What do you feel like eating?”

“Eh, whatever, my cereal’s all soggy,” she says as she rises. She gives him a cheeky smile. “Also, I can see why you slept with him. He’s pretty hot for an older guy. Didn’t take you for someone with daddy issues, though.”

Will sputters out an indignant huff. “I do not have _daddy issues.”_

“Mmhmm.” Beverly throws him a knowing grin. “Alright, stop glaring at me. Let’s go get some lunch.”

A soft sonata echoes softly through the study as Hannibal savors the wine he’s drinking. It’s typically too early in the afternoon to indulge in such practices, but he thinks he deserves it after the lackluster morning he had. Despite it being the weekend, his personal assistant had called him on some urgent matters as soon as he stepped out of the hotel earlier this morning. It took a few hours for him to delegate a few tasks to his leadership team before the matter was finally sorted out. 

Now that he has some peace and quiet, his thoughts take a more pleasant turn when he thinks of the younger man he met last night.

Despite his reservations with Friedman’s presumptuous “gift” (a term he still balks at), Hannibal must admit that he had an unexpectedly nice time with Will Graham. Will had been more than an adequate conversational partner despite his rather young age, and Hannibal found himself entertained and charmed by the seemingly innocent front the boy had put on. He never found the need to hire an escort before this, as he had thought that most of them would be coy flirts. Will had been a breath of fresh air compared to the people simpering over him.

Aside from his pleasant company, Hannibal can’t deny that Will is a very attractive man. The boy had been very vocal in his pleasure, and Hannibal recalls the way Will writhes so beautifully beneath him when he had climaxed last night.

His recollections are interrupted by the loud buzz of his phone, and he sighs when he recognizes the tone.

“What is it now?” he answers without looking at the display. 

“I’m afraid someone is insisting on reaching you right now,” Anthony, his personal assistant, says in a harried tone. “I was enjoying my date before this man ruined it by calling me every five minutes. He said he’s been trying to find a way to reach you since last night, and now he’s hounding me most insistently on a ‘matter of utmost importance’.” Anthony lets out an inelegant snort. “Lord knows everyone’s tried that line. Anyway, like I said, I was having a rather nice date and I was hoping I wouldn’t be interrupted again, so shall I just patch you to him?”

Hannibal smiles and sets his glass of wine aside. “Who is this man? How rude of him to interrupt your lovely weekend.”

Another snort. “Quite. It’s Mr. Friedman. I believe you’ve met with him a few days ago?”

His brow raises at that. What could Friedman possibly have to say? Curious despite his ire at the man, he replies, “Very well, send me his contact and I’ll call him from my private number.”

“Oh, thank god,” Anthony sighs. “I’ll send it to you right away. Now if you’ll excuse me, I was in the middle of serenading someone with my poem.”

Hannibal chuckles lightly as he hangs up. It doesn’t take long for Anthony to send him Friedman’s number, and Hannibal calls it soon after.

“Mr. Friedman?”

“Oh!” The voice on the other line sounds extremely relieved. “Mr. Lecter, finally! Your PA wouldn’t give me your number, and it took me so long to reach you. Thank you for returning my call.”

“Of course. What's so urgent that you feel you must interrupt my weekend?”

Friedman lets out an uncomfortable laugh, and he sounds as if he’s at a loss for words now that he has Hannibal’s attention. “Ah, well, you see, I’m trying not to be indelicate about it…”

“Well, I’m afraid it’s too late for that.” Hannibal doesn’t elucidate any more than that.

Another uncomfortable silence. “I suppose I’ll just get on with it. I would really like to apologize for the mix-up yesterday, Mr. Lecter. Alicia was supposed to meet you at the bar at 9 PM, but she got the location wrong and never made it to the hotel. I only realized the mistake when she called me to say that you stood her up, which would be preposterous of course.” The man lets out a cough and a sigh. “I’m truly sorry for the mix-up, and if there’s any way I can make it up to—” 

“Pardon the interruption, but who is Alicia?”

“…pale skin, curly hair, dressed in midnight blues? Something like that?”

The reminder of that calling card leaves some distaste in Hannibal’s mouth, but the feeling is quickly set aside when realization dawns on him.

“Alicia was the escort who was supposed to meet me last night.”

Friedman sounds relieved at that. “Yes, she was. Look, I can send her to you right now if you want—” 

“That won’t be necessary,” Hannibal says in a clipped tone. “I do not appreciate your manner of gifting people to others. Please don’t presume to contact me again. Send me the names of a few candidates – I will select the person who will replace your position if you would still like to deal with me and my company. Goodbye.”

He ignores the way Friedman sputters in indignation and dismay as he hangs up. Within the next few minutes, he has emailed Anthony on the gist of what he has conveyed to Friedman. He smiles in satisfaction, knowing that come Monday, Friedman will have to have a replacement ready or face the consequences of having his company booted out as a partner for their upcoming projects. 

Trying to gather his scattered thoughts, he puts his phone on silent and contemplates on what had happened last night. It seems he has made a terrible mistake.

It’s Tuesday afternoon by the time Will finds resolve and free time in his schedule. 

Will steps into the lobby of the massive office building, some of his resolve crumbling at the sight of the polished marble floors and the pristine glass windows. There is a flurry of activities in the lobby as people rush about during their one-hour window of lunchtime, and he finds himself feeling unmoored. It reminds him of his interview a few days prior, and he’s about to just give up and turn around before he remembers the thousand dollars in his backpack.

Heaving a silent sigh, he ignores the smartly dressed people who are giving him and his plaid-and-jeans combo a once-over when they pass by. When he gets to the receptionist, he settles on, “I’d like to see Hannibal Lecter, please.”

The receptionist, a bored-looking man in his late twenties, barely glances at him. “Name?”

“Uh, Will Graham.”

“Do you have an appointment with Mr. Lecter?” The man rapidly types on his laptop before he gives Will an expectant gaze.

“Um. No.” Shit. He probably should’ve thought this part through. Hannibal is the CEO of a company, there was no way he would just be let into—

“Understood, please take this badge and use it for access to the penthouse, thank you.”

Will stares at the receptionist for what feels like minutes, his mouth gaping with the shock. 

“Sir, I don’t have all day,” the receptionist says blandly. 

His emphasis on the word “sir” shocks Will into action, and he takes the access badge silently before he turns away. A moment of realization before he turns back to the receptionist—

“The lifts are on your left side, use the badge for identification and entry,” the receptionist says in a droll, rote voice. “The button ‘P’ will take you to the penthouse, and please leave the badge with the guard at the exit before you leave, thank you.”

Will lets out a huff of laughter. “Thanks.”

Apparently, there are a lot of bumbling idiots like him stumbling into this building and wanting to meet the CEO. Well, he’s certainly not complaining if it means being able to get this over with as soon as possible. 

He’s the only person to get off at the penthouse level, which probably shouldn’t surprise him. As he steps out of the glass elevator, he looks around to seek out a direction. He needn’t have bothered, as there is only a long hallway that leads to a large, spacious office when he steps inside. 

“Ah, Will Graham?” 

Will’s attention snaps to the unfamiliar voice, and he frowns when he sees a tall, well-dressed man with a roguish smile approaching him. 

“Um, yes?”

“You’re not sure of who you are?” There’s a curl of amusement to the man’s teasing tone, and Will blushes at it. 

“I’m— sorry, I’m just here for a sec before I leave, not used to this”—Will gestures to the opulent office—“whole thing. Is Hannibal Lecter here?”

“Yes, he’s been expecting you,” the man says before he extends a hand out. “I’m Anthony Dimmond, nice to meet you.”

Will shakes his hand gingerly. “Uh, likewise. He’s… why is he expecting me?”

“Oh, I’m sure he’ll let you know why. Follow me, please.” 

Will does, getting more confused by the moment. Was that why the receptionist had been so cavalier at letting him into the sanctum of Hannibal’s company? He supposes that makes sense. More to the point, though, why was Hannibal expecting him when he hasn’t even bothered to call the man? 

Was it because he wanted more of Will’s “service”? 

His blood boils at the thought. By the time Dimmond has led him to the heart of Hannibal’s lavish sanctuary, his mouth is set in a displeased scowl. 

“I’ll leave you two to it,” Dimmond chirps before he makes himself scarce.

Hannibal is seated behind a sleek mahogany desk, looking relaxed as he leans back in his chair. The view behind him is beautiful – with how high the office is situated, the tall glass windows highlight the expansive city behind him. If Will were here for leisure, he would have appreciated the beauty of the view and the aesthetics of the wide office as well as how unfairly handsome Hannibal looks, framed against both of them. 

As it is, he barely takes all this in before he focuses on Hannibal.

“Will,” Hannibal says, a small smile curling at his lips. “I had expected you to call first.”

Will’s scowl grows heavier. “Why? Because you wanted to know when I’d be ‘available next’?” 

He raises his hand to indicate that he’s not done yet. With Hannibal’s attention on him, he opens his backpack to fish out the envelope of money before he tosses it onto the desk. 

Hannibal looks at it with a faint raise of his eyebrow. 

“Did you think you were being charitable when you gave me a grand for my ‘services’?” Will snarls. “You must’ve thought I would be calling you in the next hour, begging to be fucked by you just because you threw me some money? Well, guess what, I’m not a fucking slu—” 

“Will, I must apologize before you say anything further,” Hannibal interrupts him, calm and poised in the face of Will’s anger. “Will you please let me explain things?”

The apology knocks the wind out of his sails, though Will retains his glare. “What is there to even explain? We had a nice conversation, I invited you to my room, and then you gave me a thousand dollars after we slept together! I can only assume you thought that I was expecting to be paid for sex!”

Hannibal sighs and gestures to the seat in front of him. “Please, Will, have a seat. I do have a rather odd explanation for this, I promise.”

Will stares at him mutinously for ten seconds before he relents. He crosses his arms when he takes his seat, glaring at Hannibal to continue.

Hannibal gives him an amused smile, his eyes crinkling with the gesture. 

“I’m glad this is funny to one of us,” Will says. He doesn’t even care that he’s being borderline rude with this man. He wants to wipe that smug smile off Hannibal’s face if it was physically possible.

Hannibal schools his expression, then. He sits straighter and leans his elbows on the desk, his mouth set in a grave line. The very picture of repentance. Will snorts at the display.

“I want to extend my sincerest apologies for the misunderstanding, Will,” Hannibal begins, sounding sincere. “When I made my way to the hotel bar that night, it was with the impression that I was meeting an escort which had been”—a pause—“gifted to me. The descriptions were deliberately vague, I suppose to preserve the anonymity of the escort in question before the time we were to meet. Unfortunately, it was so vague that it seemed to have applied to someone similar that night. As fortune would have it, that someone was you.”

Will listens with dawning horror at the comedy of errors, realizing that he was the punchline to the joke. “You— People give you… escorts as a gift? What the fuck?”

“Exactly my sentiment when I received the calling card,” Hannibal replies dryly, heaving another sigh. “It might sound like a feeble excuse, but the offer was so unexpected that I didn’t have the chance to reject it. My intention was to meet the escort and let them know in no uncertain terms that this sort of dealings was acceptable to me and any of my employees.” 

Will scoffs. “Really? But you slept with me, thinking I was the escort, despite your ‘intentions’,” he hisses. 

Hannibal looks ashamed for a moment, looking down at the envelope of money before he meets Will’s eyes again. “I apologize. I admit that when I saw you across the room, I was… struck by your beauty. And then, as you said, we had a nice conversation and I found myself smitten.” 

Despite the pleased flush traveling through him at the words, Will keeps his glare trained on Hannibal. “Yeah, well, guess what? I don’t appreciate being paid for sex when I thought we were both having a nice time.”

“I’m truly sorry, Will.” Hannibal’s expression is contrite. “If there’s anything I could do—” 

“You can have your money back,” Will snaps, rising from his seat. 

“You can keep it, as my penance—” 

_“I'm not a charity case!”_ Will practically screams. “Why the fuck does everyone treat me like one? You people think money is the answer to everything, don’t you? Well, ‘fuck you’, is my answer to that.” 

Will turns around on his heels and begins to march blindly to the exit, rage clouding his thoughts. He snarls when he feels Hannibal’s hand closing around his wrist, and he tries to yank his hand away.

Despite the refined demeanor Hannibal puts on, there’s a surprising strength to him that makes it almost impossible for Will to pull away. When that proves ineffectual, Will turns around to glare at the older man. Before he can think better of it, his unoccupied hand rises and he slaps Hannibal with all the rage he has mustered inside.

“Let go of me,” he hisses. 

This close, he can see the brown-reddish hue of Hannibal’s eyes as the man stared at him, looking composed even though he was just slapped. For the first time, Will feels dread filling him as he stares back and finds nothing but placid calm. The grip around his wrist has loosened, but Will is transfixed in place, unnerved. 

Whenever he looks into people’s eyes, he’s inevitably bombarded with their emotions, his empathy making it easier for him to delve into their psyche. It doesn’t make him psychic, but he does get impressions from others, enough for him to know what people are likely feeling at a given time.

With Hannibal, he gets nothing but emptiness.

He’s stunned into silence at the disconcerting find and he’s only brought back to the present when Hannibal speaks.

“I truly am sorry, Will.” Hannibal’s tone is earnest, his eyes still boring into Will’s. “If I had known, I wouldn’t have presumed to be so arrogant with my actions.”

Will sighs, the fight slowly dissipating out of him. Hannibal looks and sounds sincere enough in his apologies, even if Will can’t really make him out. He takes one step back to put some space between them. 

“Well,” he replies. “Maybe next time you’ll know not to treat people like shit. Regardless of how you perceive them.”

Hannibal tilts his head. “What if they are truly pigs?” 

“…Did you not listen to what I just said?”

Hannibal’s eyes crinkle with amusement. “Point taken.” He gives Will a once-over, then. “I don’t want to assume again, of course, but would I be correct in thinking that you’re a student?” 

“You would be correct,” Will says dryly, matching Hannibal’s prim tone. 

“A college student?”

Will nods, and Hannibal’s face floods with obvious relief. That pulls a laugh out of Will. “How could you even think that I’m an escort when you can deduce all that from mere observation?”

“In my defense, I was blindsided by your beauty.”

He ignores the way he flushes in pleasure at that. Whatever Hannibal is, he truly knows how to get a rise out of Will. “Are all Europeans this forward?” he asks weakly. 

Hannibal chuckles. “Perhaps some more so than most. I believe you would benefit from not presuming that a stereotype holds true for all of us.”

Will flushes. “Fair enough. But you _are_ European?”

“What gives it away?”

Hannibal’s teasing tone makes Will grin, reluctant though he is to be amused right now. 

“I’m from Lithuania,” Hannibal admits with a small smile. “Besides, you were not dressed like a college student when we last met.”

“Oh. Yeah, that was my ‘interview suit’.” Well, technically it's the only nice suit Will owns. He gets a lot of mileage from that suit.

“Hmm. I did think your suit fit poorly for an escort.”

“Wow. I was this close to forgiving you.”

Hannibal chuckles. “I know I should apologize again, but I fear I will need to use my apologies sparingly when it comes to our conversations.” 

Will snorts. “What makes you think we’re going to be meeting each other again?” 

Hannibal tilts his head. “I believe we both enjoyed our conversations, and what followed it after. Did we not agree to meet each other again afterward?”

“Yeah, but that was before you paid me like a prostitute.”

“Something which I will eternally apologize for if it suits you.”

Will mulls that over. “I’ll consider it.” He snorts at the way Hannibal’s face brightens into a surprised smile. “But you’re going to have to earn it.”

“Of course, Will. Just name your terms.”

For the second time in so many days, Hannibal finds himself in unfamiliar territory. He hasn’t been to Washington for the past few years as his business rarely takes him there.

And yet, here he is today, a few seconds away from reaching a bar that Will has insisted they meet at as part of Hannibal’s reparations. A small price to pay to be able to see Will again. He had not reached out to Will earlier when he realized that the boy was not an escort, in part because he had neglected to get Will's number (thinking that Will would call him first). Another part of him had been curious as to what Will would do next, and he wasn't disappointed when Will had shown up in his office a few days ago, the incandescent rage contorting his lovely features into something ferocious. He could still feel the sting of Will's slap days later. As much as the slap angered him somewhat, he had deserved it. It somehow made Will more endearing to him, in effect. 

It took everything in him not to pull the boy into his lap to deliver a blow to that lovely backside that day, for his pleasure as much as Will's.

His driver meets his eyes through the rearview mirror when they reach the establishment. “Are you sure this is the right place, sir?” Randall asks, his expression dubious.

Hannibal reads the sign with a small sigh. “Positive. Thank you, Randall. I’ll let you know when I’m done here.”

Randall shrugs. “Alright, boss. See you later.”

 _Lindy’s_ claim to fame is apparently their cheap drinks and their “delicious burgers and sandwiches”, at least from what Hannibal has read of the place. What little he has seen of the reviews left him wanting to know less, and so he fortifies himself when he steps inside. 

At 7 PM on a Friday night, the place is almost at full capacity, but he finds Will easily in one of the more secluded seats. The din and the size of the crowd means that Will does not immediately sense his approach. Will is seated alone and checking his phone listlessly, a fry in his hand. There’s a plate of burger and fries in front of him, which Hannibal sniffs at. He startles slightly when Hannibal slides into the seat across him. 

“You came,” Will says, eyes widening slightly. 

“I said I would,” Hannibal reminds him. 

Will is still looking at him with some disbelief, and it takes Hannibal five seconds to find out why. “I can’t believe you came, but most of all: I can’t believe you’re still wearing a suit.”

Hannibal smiles. “My suit is my armor.”

Will snorts, taking a bite out of his fry. “What, you think someone like me is going to put a dent through it?”

“Stranger things have happened.”

Will hums. “Well… now that you’re here. What do you want? They’ve got burgers and sa—”

“Sandwiches, yes, I know,” Hannibal says with some amusement. “It’s alright, I think I will be having just a drink, thank you.”

Will laughs. “Forgot you’re a food snob, on top of everything else. Do you drink beer? Or are you a wine kind of guy?”

“You may surprise me with your choice.”

“Hmm, hope you’re not going to regret that later.”

The beer that Will orders for him comes as a slight surprise, in that it tastes adequate, for a place like this. 

“I can see you judging the beer,” Will laughs. “I still can’t believe you’re here.”

“I did say I would do anything to earn your forgiveness. The beer is… nice.”

Will looks amused. “Seriously? You don’t have to try so hard. What can possibly drive you here, despite the verbal abuse I gave you?” 

Hannibal hums. “You don’t see your appeal, do you?”

The boy’s blush really is becoming on him. 

“You have got to stop doing that,” Will grumbles, looking down at his meal in embarrassment. 

“Stop doing what?”

“Complimenting people like it’s nothing.”

“My compliments are not so easily given.” 

“So what, you’re saying I’m special? Just because we slept together?” Will asks, the challenge back in his tone. 

“And what if I say that you are? Would you deflect the compliment given again?”

Will groans and puts his face in his hands. “You’re so insufferable.”

Hannibal chuckles. “I’ve been told that countless times, though I usually hear it from my employees.”

“Wow, and you let them live after that?” Will asks, the sarcasm obvious in his tone.

“I’m not in the habit of killing people over such common trespasses.” At least not those kinds. 

Will laughs. “What kind of trespass would drive you to murder then?”

Hannibal raises an eyebrow. “A morbid question, and one I didn’t expect from you.”

Will’s face reddens, then. “Force of habit because of what I study I guess.”

“Oh? What are you studying, Will?”

Will sighs, looking uncomfortable. “I’m taking forensics psychology.”

Interesting. “A very admirable field.” 

Hannibal considers probing him to find out more, but he doesn’t think Will would appreciate it. He still has to earn the boy’s forgiveness, after all, if he still wants to see him. And against all odds, Hannibal finds that he does want to see Will again. 

He takes a swig of his beer. “To answer your question, discourtesy is unspeakably ugly to me.”

Will blinks at the change of subject. “Huh. So… you’re saying you’d hypothetically kill people for being rude?” 

“Hypothetically, yes,” Hannibal says, smiling at the private joke. 

“…Okay. Odd, but I guess I’ve heard worse reasons.”

Hannibal grins. “What about you?”

“Hmm. Haven’t given it too much thought. I guess… if I really must choose, I’d kill the serial killers.”

“Ah. How disappointing. A rather typical choice for someone like you.”

“What? As opposed to killing people because they’re ‘discourteous’?” 

“It adds a little whimsy to the whole enterprise, doesn’t it?”

Will snorts. “Killing people is not whimsical in the least. It’s intimate.”

“How so?”

Will sighs. “Okay, at the risk of sounding even more morbid by paraphrasing a killer: when you kill people, you’re looking into their eyes when you feel the last of their breath leaving their body. That’s… there’s something intimate in that, in having that moment where you feel powerful for taking another’s life. That’s what drives these killers to do something so inhuman and cruel to their own species, or at least that’s what has been posited.”

“Do you not agree with that statement, then?”

Will shrugs. “There are layers to it that we have yet to understand, even with all the advancement in technology and the psychological studies that have been done on serial killers. Not every person is the same, and it’d be stupid to profile every killer with the same lens.”

“An astute observation,” Hannibal says, pleased at the turn of the conversation. “You’d make a fine profiler if you keep that objectivity in mind.”

Will looks embarrassed once more. “Uh, thanks. You can tell that to my interviewers, I guess. I haven’t had much luck with any of my job applications so far.”

“Ah, that’s a shame. Would it have something to do with the ill-fitting suit?”

Will glares at him, and Hannibal just laughs. 

“I’d throw these fries at you if it wouldn’t be a waste of good fries.”

Hannibal sniffs. “I doubt anything that oily would be considered a waste.”

Will rolls his eyes. “Yeah, they’re not exactly nutritious, but they’re filling and they’re cheap.”

Hannibal hums. He can understand that, at least, having been through a similar experience of having to make ends meet when he was much younger. “Well, if you’re fond of burgers and fries, would you like to—” 

“Oh my God, are you Hannibal Lecter?” 

Hannibal stills at the interruption before he turns to the person who’s cutting into their conversation. 

“Oh my God, you are, you totally are!” the portly man says, looking delighted. “Hi! I’m Franklyn, I’m such a big fan of yours!”

Hannibal smiles. “Nice to meet you, Franklyn.”

“Oh, likewise!” Franklyn grins. “Your book has helped me so much! I was thinking of joining one of your seminars, but y’know, timing and money and all that jazz. I didn’t think I’d ever get to see you in person!”

“I’m very glad to hear that,” Hannibal says, putting on his professional mien. “I hope you find them useful once you get to join in one of the classes.”

“Oh for sure,” Franklyn says, nodding effusively. “Oh man, wait till my friends hear about this. Um, can I take a photo with you?” 

“Of course,” Hannibal says graciously, though it pains him slightly to think that he would be photographed at such a location. 

Franklyn, to Hannibal’s dismay, turns to Will then to give him his phone. “Can you take a photo of the two of us?”

Will looks amused rather than offended, and he takes the phone before gesturing for Franklyn and Hannibal to pose. Will takes several photos before handing the phone back to Franklyn with a smile. 

“Thanks,” Franklyn says. His glance shifts between Will and Hannibal then, watching them curiously. “What are you doing here, by the way?” he asks Hannibal. “Wait, are you holding a class here in GWU and I didn’t know about it?” 

“No,” Hannibal says with a chuckle. “I’m just here to give my dear nephew some pointers on how to prepare for his upcoming interviews.”

Will, who has been drinking his beer silently as he watches their exchange, chokes on his drink. He coughs for several seconds while Franklyn looks on in alarm before he holds a hand up to indicate he’s fine. When he does meet Hannibal’s eyes, Hannibal notes Will’s glare gleefully.

“Oh, that’s nice,” Franklyn says, still looking worried at Will’s coughing fit. “Well, it’s really nice to meet you! I hope I can see you again one day.” He turns to Will with a smile. “Good luck with your interviews!”

“Thanks,” Will says dryly just before Franklyn leaves. He glares at Hannibal once Franklyn is out of earshot. “Your _nephew?_ ”

“Would you rather have me telling him I was here to win your favors so that I can hear you scream my name again?”

The way Will reddens while he sputters in indignation is adorable. Hannibal thinks he would really like to see more of the boy.

When Will wakes up in his own bed the next day, he has a splitting headache and is almost disappointed to discover that he’s alone in bed.

Sighing, Will forces his eyes open and tries to will his nausea away before he glances at the clock on his bedside table. 10 AM. Not too bad, considering. At least he doesn’t have classes on weekends. 

Will catches the sight of a glass of water and two pills next to the clock, and he sighs in relief. Beverly must have cottoned on to the fact that he would need it. He takes it with no question and drinks the water until the glass is empty before he attempts a journey to the bathroom.

Once he finally makes his way to the living room, he feels much better. He still has a headache, but it’s much more bearable. Beverly is watching him closely as he totters to the kitchen counter. 

“You okay, dude?” she asks, munching on her cereal. 

“Not too bad,” Will says, yawning. “Haven’t had this kind of hangover for a while, though.”

“You want some cereal?”

“I could use some. We don’t have soup, do we?”

“Ran out last week, sorry. We can order takeout, though.”

“Nah, it’s okay, I’ll probably throw that up.”

“Gross,” Beverly laughs. “Here, take a bowl. There’s coffee in the pot.”

“Thanks.” 

The coffee helps, a little. Will forces himself to eat, though he does so slowly. He can’t remember how he got home last night, but he can take a guess.

“What time did I get back last night?” Will asks Beverly. She’s looking through her phone while she eats.

“Hmm, around 11.30 I think?”

“Oh. That’s good. I thought I was out for much longer than that.”

“Yeah. That Hannibal sure is a great guy.”

Will groans. _Dammit._ He should’ve known all that nonchalance was an act. 

“What, I’m just stating a fact!” Beverly laughs. 

“You met him?” he asks, horrified at the thought.

“Kinda,” she replies with a grin. “He’s smoking hot, even more so in person. I get why you wanted to tap that. Anyway, he was a perfect gentleman, dropped you off in your bed before he left and all. I hope you didn’t throw up in his limousine or something.”

Will groans, putting his face in his hands. “God, I don’t even know. I might have?”

Beverly chuckles. “I hope not, for your sake.” A brief silence before she remembers something. “Oh yeah, he said something about a paper bag at your bedside table.”

Will frowns. “What?”

Beverly shrugs. “I don’t know, said it was yours.”

“Right. I’ll look at it later.”

“Suit yourself.” Beverly stretches before she rises from her seat at the counter. “Well, gotta leave for my date. You sure you okay? Need anything else before I leave?”

“No thanks, mom.”

Beverly snorts. “You wish I’m your mom. Though you’d probably get a spanking for that if I am your mom, fair warning.”

Will laughs. “Okay, okay. I’m fine. It’s not like I’ve never had a hangover before.”

“Just checking. Alright, see you, Graham.”

Will sits in silence as he finishes his meal for almost thirty minutes before curiosity finally gets the best of him. He leaves the bowl in the sink in favor of entering his bedroom to search for the mystery package. The paper bag sits innocuously at the foot of his bedside table, and he’s not surprised he missed it the first time around in his bleariness. 

Curious, he looks inside and takes out a black box the size of an A4 paper. The packaging is simple in its design, but the heavy material feels lush in his hands as he examines it. When he opens it, his jaw drops at the sight of the bespoke suit in the colors of midnight blue nestled inside the box. 

His hand shakes as he runs it over the soft material, and he doesn’t have to look at the embossed card on top of the suit to know who it’s from. He turns the card in his hand, a pleasant shiver traveling through him as he reads the message.

_For your upcoming interviews. May it fare you well._

_\- Yours, HL_


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please see the end notes for CW/TW.

Will knows Hannibal is expecting his call when the man answers on the first ring.

“Will.” Hannibal sounds calm as always, though there’s a pleased note in his tone. “I hope you’re feeling better. You were quite inebriated last night.”

“I’m fine, thanks,” Will replies. He looks down at the blue suit laid out on his bed and launches directly into the question plaguing his mind. “Why did you give me a suit?”

It’s easier to come out with it; Hannibal wouldn’t have the chance to deflect.

Hannibal’s answer is equally direct. “I thought you’d appreciate a practical gift.”

Will’s mouth thins in displeasure. “I told you I’m not a charity case.”

“Are you uncomfortable with the concept of gifts, even if they’re freely given without any expectations of reciprocation?”

“Oh yeah? You sure about that?”

“About what?”

“The ‘no reciprocation’ part.”

“I’m sure.”

There’s the sound of something sizzling on the other line then; a hiss of something frying on a pan. If Will concentrates hard enough, he thinks he can hear the faint sound of classical music playing in the background. 

“Sorry, are you cooking?”

“Hmm?” Hannibal’s answer sounds distracted. “Yes, I’m preparing something for lunch. Don’t worry, I wouldn’t have answered the phone if I couldn’t.”

“It’s”—Will squints at the clock on the table—“barely twelve.”

Hannibal chuckles. “Ah, the life of a college student. I assume you just had breakfast?”

“Yes,” Will admits, albeit reluctantly. “Do you always keep such a rigid schedule? It’s the weekend.”

“Hmm, I savor my routine. They give me something to focus on.”

Will blinks. “Even someone like you needs something to focus on?”

“It’s how I made my business, after all.”

Will snorts. Oh, he’s heard all about Hannibal’s  business . When Ravenstag & Co. had come onto the scene with a book and seminar on “mindfulness in a fast-paced world”, it became one of the sleeper hits of the year. Once the book and its step-by-step “methods of mindfulness” made it onto a TED Talk platform, the company gained nationwide recognition in the self-help industry, making a fortune by holding several seminars around the globe on how to practice its touted methodology.

Will finds the whole thing to be absolute bullshit if he’s honest.

“Your laughter indicates that you don’t believe in what I’m selling.” Instead of sounding offended, Hannibal sounds… amused. Will can almost imagine the small smile on the man’s face.

Will shrugs, realizing that Hannibal can’t see it a moment later. “Sorry, I just found it to be a bit trite.”

“Hmm. Well, at least you’re being honest. Would you please hold on for a few seconds?”

There’s a momentary pause when Hannibal seemingly moves away from the phone, and Will thinks he hears Hannibal scraping his meal onto a plate. Done with his cooking, then.

“Apologies for the interruption,” Hannibal says when he returns to the phone.

“Uh, it’s alright. What are you cooking?”

“I’m having beef roulade with some greens on the side.”

“Huh. Sounds fancy. You cook all that from scratch?”

“Yes. I’m very careful with what I put inside my body. I prefer to prepare the things I consume, though I make exceptions when I need to.”

“Yes, it’s one of the ‘pillars’ in your book, isn’t it?” Will laughs. “So you’re cooking as a method to achieve mindfulness?”

“So, you have read it.” Hannibal sounds pleased.

“When Oprah puts you on her book club reading list, you can assume that 80% of the population would end up reading it.” Will reconsiders. “Or maybe they’ll just pretend they did.”

A soft chuckle. “I’m glad  _ you’ve  _ read it, in any case.”

“That doesn’t mean I agree with everything.”

“Far be it for me to punish you for disagreeing with me,” Hannibal replies, a hint of a smile in those words. “While I don’t wish to cut this conversation short, I do have a policy to eat everything while it’s still fresh.” He sounds genuinely apologetic.

“Oh yeah, of course, sorry,” Will sputters. Wait, when did this phone call turn into a conversation? He sighs. “You completely evaded the original point of this call.”

“Which was?” Hannibal prompts, sounding amused.

“Which was me trying to tell you off by presuming to give me things. I feel like we’re always having this conversation.”

“And what does that tell you?”

Will snorts. “No, you’re not getting off that easily again.”

Hannibal lets out a soft huff of laughter. “Was the suit not to your liking? Did it not fit you?”

It had fitted him a little  _ too  _ well when Will tried it on earlier. And yeah, he had to admit that the material and the fitting was nice. It will make him look more polished when he inevitably has to go to yet another interview.

“It’s nice and it did fit me,” Will admits. “I don’t want to know why it fits me so well.”

“Then I won’t spoil the surprise,” Hannibal teases. “On what grounds would you oppose the gift, then?”

“I… it’s probably expensive as hell? And… I didn’t ask for it?”

“The concept of a gift is that the gift-giver intends to please someone with a gift with no expectations of reciprocity.”

Will huffs. “Yes, you’ve mentioned that. But this… is so far from that ‘concept’ that I’m struggling to fit my head around it, don’t you think?”

“Are you so unused to it that you need to wrap your head around it?”

Will’s face colors, thankful that they’re not speaking face-to-face. “Yes, I’m not used to people giving me things, is that what you wanted to hear?” he snaps.

“Hmm, a shame. I would love nothing but to shower you with them if you’d allow me.”

Will can’t even think of how to respond to that, and he stares at the blue suit for a full minute.

“Will? Are you still there?”

“Yeah,” he replies weakly. “You… Why are you doing this? Seriously?”

“I’ve enjoyed your company, and our conversations as well as our non-conversational moments. I would like to see more of you, and I like to give you beautiful things because I like the idea of adorning you with them, knowing that I gave them to you. Is that honest enough for your taste, Will?”

Will swallows down the lump in his throat. “I’m… I can’t offer you anything in return.”  _ Lies. _ He knows exactly what he can offer in return, but that would also be for his own gratification.

“I told you I don’t expect anything in return.”

Will licks his lips. “But would you like one?”

A small pause while Hannibal considers his answer. “Only what you’re willing to offer.” Before Will can respond, he continues, “Would you like to meet me for lunch tomorrow?”

He doesn’t give himself time to think. “Yes. I’d like that.”

“I’m back!”

Beverly’s holler resounds through the short hallway that leads to his bedroom, and he makes his way to the living room just in time to see Beverly slumping on the long couch with a loud sigh.

“Hey,” she says, looking him over. “You look kinda flushed. You okay?”

Will gives her a wan smile and sits next to her. He ignores the guilty feeling in his belly, trying to look nonchalant.

When Will had hung up the phone earlier, he had masturbated to the thought of Hannibal’s hands on him, the older man’s words echoing in his head when he came. His eyes had strayed to that damned gorgeous suit when he was catching his breath, the color gleaming wickedly at him as if to remind him further of Hannibal. He had to have a quick shower just to wash off the evidence of his moment of impulsiveness. 

Sighing, he shrugs. “Just had a shower.”

“Uh-huh.” Beverly doesn’t look convinced. “You’re not developing a fever, are you?”

“No, sheesh, it’s not a big deal.”

“Okay, okay, touchy,” Beverly laughs.

“How was your date?”

“Eh, could’ve gone better. I wouldn’t be here if it did, that’s for sure.”

“Tough luck.”

“Them’s the breaks,” Beverly agrees. “What have you been doing all day? How’s your head?”

“I’m alright.”

“Okay. Want to hangout? Order some takeout, watch some Netflix or something since we’re both out of luck when it comes to the dating pool this weekend.”

“Uh…”

Beverly’s eyes narrow as they snap to his. “I knew it. What? What aren’t you telling me?”

“I’m down for takeout and Netflix.” Will sighs. “I just sort of… have a date tomorrow? I think?”

Beverly grins. “It’s Hannibal, isn’t it?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“I mean unless you managed to meet someone in the space of the last few hours, which I doubt because it’s you, so. Easy conclusion.”

“Wow, thanks.”

“Am I wrong, though?”

Will laughs. “I hate you sometimes.”

“No, you don’t. So where is he taking you?”

“Should I order takeout now, or?”

“Shut up, that can wait, gossip can’t. Spill.”

“He… sort of invited me to his place for lunch.”

Beverly crows with laughter, looking far too pleased at the development. “Oh my God, that was  _ fast. _ And here I thought you were going to bite his head off when you confronted him.”

Will sighs. “That’s just the thing. I thought he would throw me out of his office after what I did, or at least that he wouldn’t even bother to come to DC just to prove that he’s sorry over the whole thing. But…”

Beverly purses her lips. “I mean, it’s not like he’s hurting for money to come down here, right?”

“Yeah, but… it’s the action itself that makes it seem more genuine if that makes sense? How many CEOs would bother to come down to a hole in the wall bar that’s filled with GWU students?”

“I mean,  _ I  _ don’t know any CEOs, so I can’t say. But I see your point.”

Will bites his lips. “Am I reading too much into this? He offered to make me lunch. Even if he’s doing it to get into my pants, why would anyone go to that much trouble? Especially someone like him who could probably call up anyone he wants to warm his bed?”

Beverly frowns. “Hey, Graham, come on. You don’t have to justify yourself. I’m not judging. You like the guy, right?”

Will sighs. “I kind of do, even though he was sort of an asshole.”

“Well, you’re kind of one too sometimes, so you’re perfect for each other.”

Will flings one of the throw pillows at Beverly. “Shut up, you’re not helping.”

Beverly laughs and throws it back at him. “Seriously, though? Do you want to hear my advice?”

Will draws in a deep breath. “Alright, hit me.”

“Well, you’re kind of closed-off at times, and it’s hard to get a read on you. You don’t let people in easily. I can’t say I wasn’t surprised when you told me about Hannibal, but stranger things have happened, right? So why not allow yourself this? It worries me whenever you talk like you’re worthless and that you don’t deserve to have nice things happening to you.” Beverly holds up her forefinger when it looks like Will is about to retort. “Look, we’ve been roommates for, like, three years now? I know you more than most, right? So, trust me when I say that you deserve to have this if you want it.”

She tilts her head, her gaze turning curious. “Do you want it?”

The answer comes easily enough, but it’s hard to put it into words on just why. But maybe that was Beverly’s point. Maybe he doesn’t have to have a reason to want this for himself, just this once.

“I do want it,” Will admits softly, eyes downcast. The thread at the edge of the throw pillow is unraveling, and he twists at it absentmindedly. “Am I acting like a total slut for accepting his invitation even though I practically yelled at him for implying I am one when he paid me?”

“Two different circumstances,” Beverly says, shrugging. “Hey, if he’s gonna pay you for it next time, why the hell should that stop you? Enjoy it while it lasts. I hope you’re using protection, though.”

“I’m not a complete idiot,” Will snaps, cheeks reddening.

“Good, ’cause mama sure didn’t raise one.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“You love me. Okay,  _ now  _ we can order takeout. My treat.”

“It’s always your treat.”

“What did I say about letting yourself have nice things? Jeez, it’s just Chinese food. It’s not like I’m paying a grand for it.”

Will laughs. “I’m never gonna live that down, huh?”

“Never,” Beverly promises with a grin.

The doorbell rings at exactly 12 PM on Sunday, and Hannibal smiles at Will’s punctuality. He regards Will with some contentment when he opens the door to his residence. Will is practically buried in his military jacket, the collar pulled up to stave off the worst of the wintry wind. Even with the less-than-flattering jacket, Will looks delectable. He wonders if it’s too soon to gift the boy one that would match his eyes.

“Welcome,” Hannibal says with a smile, and not without a little preening at the obvious admiration on Will’s face when he gives Hannibal a surreptitious glance.

Hannibal ushers him in and doffs his coat for him while Will pretends not to be embarrassed by the whole ordeal.

It looks like Will has expended some effort to dress up for their lunch date. Though his curls are still as untamable as the night they first met, he’s wearing a blue sweater that complements his eyes and austere-looking slacks which he no doubt wears to his other interviews. The effect is pleasant on him, however, and Hannibal appreciates the sight before he gestures for Will to follow him.

“Your house is really something else,” Will says, looking around as Hannibal leads him to the dining room.

Hannibal chuckles at the light censure behind the words. “I know it’s not everyone’s taste,” he says of the rather austere decorations, gesturing to a seat at the right side of the table for Will to take.

“It suits you,” Will says, a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Hannibal says primly.

Will grins. “You do that.”

There are certain things that others would do which would have Hannibal asking for their business card for a place in his Rolodex. But with Will, these things are rather charming or endearing. It was initially off-putting to realize that he doesn’t mind rudeness when it comes from Will, but he’s gotten used to it since then, considering he was the rude party in the first place when he assumed that Will was an escort.

Hannibal likes the challenges that Will presents. It’s a delightful sort of puzzle to put together, and he never quite knows which pieces of the corner Will would present next.

“I hope you’ve come hungry,” Hannibal says, taking a seat at the head of the table, Will on his right side.

Will’s eyes, which were drawn to the  _ Leda and the Swan  _ painting on the mantelpiece, are filled with mirth when they turn to Hannibal. “I’m famished,” he replies with a small smile.

Hannibal returns the smile and points to the meal in front of Will, the entire thing covered with a stainless-steel dish cover.

Will huffs at the theatricality before he lifts the cover. He erupts into peals of laughter when he recognizes the meal.

“Burger and fries, with some greens on the side?” Will asks in between his chuckles. “You’ve clearly outdone yourself with this one.”

“I thought you’d appreciate the familiarity,” Hannibal teases, lifting the cover to his meal. “I wouldn’t mind if you’d rather use your hands rather than the fork and knife.”

Will raises an eyebrow. “I’m impressed. You do know a way to a commoner’s heart.”

“It may be hard for you to believe, but I wasn’t always well-off,” Hannibal says mildly. A half-truth, and one that he doesn’t mind revealing.

“Wait, you weren’t born with a suit and a silver spoon in your mouth?” Will asks, a teasing glint in his eyes. He pops a fry into his mouth while he waits for Hannibal’s answer, looking curious.

Hannibal chuckles. “Perhaps the silver spoon part is true, though I have no way of verifying it. I was born into a wealthy family, but circumstances weren’t always kind to me. I lost my family at a young age before my uncle found me. It was a gentle resurrection, a second life for me, and I owe my gratitude to him.”

The teasing edges around Will’s demeanor softens, and he smiles in commiseration. “Well, I’m glad you’ve managed to bounce back. My Pa kicked the bucket when I was in college. I guess he picked the most convenient time to die, seeing that I was off on my own at last.”

Hannibal doesn’t miss the bittersweet tone, and he lays a hand around Will’s, squeezing it for a few seconds before he pulls back. “At the very least, he got to see you well-situated in life.”

Will’s hand twitches as Hannibal’s hand lands on his, and he’s looking at his burger too intently, studiously avoiding Hannibal’s eyes. “I wouldn’t say I’m well-situated. Still need to find a job, for one.”

“I’m sure you’ll find something that suits you, especially with that brilliant mind of yours.”

The tip of Will’s ears reddens. It really is a becoming shade on him. “You hardly know me,” Will mutters, taking a bite out of the fries.

“I’ve seen enough to know how insightful you can be,” Hannibal says gently. “Perhaps you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself.”

Will is silent at that, looking as if he’s reflecting on something.

“Speaking of interviews,” Hannibal continues, “did you try on the suit yesterday?”

Will turns to look at him, looking relieved at the change of subject. “Oh, yeah, I did.” The blush of red spreads to his face. Curious. “Thank you, by the way. I don’t think I thanked you properly before.”

Hannibal’s smile is wide and genuine. “Do you accept the gift?”

“Yes,” Will mutters, turning his attention on his meal again.

It seems that Will still has some trouble accepting compliments and intense scrutiny. Another thing for the two of them to work on, then.

Taking pity on him, Hannibal focuses on his meal and begins to eat. The meat of this particular cow is especially flavorful today, and he savors the juicy tang it leaves on his tongue. He glances to Will now and then, noting how the boy similarly enjoys the meal, his eyes widening slightly after a few bites.

“This is delicious,” Will says, smiling at Hannibal genuinely. “Much better than  _ Lindy’s. _ You should open a restaurant.”

“Displace the local favorite?” Hannibal teases. “The entire student body would stone me for the trespass.”

Will chuckles, eating a few more of the fries. “I’m sure they could be placated with a good wine or two.”

Hannibal smiles. He much prefers Will when he’s like this, open with his pleasure and contentment. “While I like to cook for myself, and sometimes for an audience, my meals are often an intimate affair. I much prefer to cook for people who can appreciate them to the fullest.”

Will colors at the implication. He licks his lips and takes a few sips of the water. “Thank you, then, for this meal. It really is delicious.”

Hannibal tilts his head in acknowledgment. He wonders what Will would say when Hannibal serves him Friedman one day.

Alas, it’s too early to let the boy in on his favorite pastime  _ (if  _ he ever lets the boy in, Hannibal corrects himself), so he keeps his curiosity for another day.

They eat the rest of the meal in relative silence, Hannibal content to let Will probe him with the occasional questions on much lighter matters. He responds in kind, and the conversation flows between them effortlessly. It is truly a wonder to find someone like Will in such abnormal circumstances, and Hannibal is thankful for the chance to make amends after their initial misunderstanding. Beyond the boy’s classical beauty, there’s a brilliant mind lurking beneath those keen eyes.

Their meeting is the only reason Friedman has not yet ended up on the menu, but that too is only a matter of time. After all, Hannibal can be very patient.

Once the meal is cleared, Hannibal takes Will to the study, offering him whiskey or wine though it’s still rather early to partake in drinks. In any case, Will declines, and they sit next to each other on the long sofa, Hannibal taking in the sight of Will sitting so awkwardly in his study.

He wonders at the sudden discomfort Will is displaying, and he asks as much.

Will licks his lips, looking as if he’s trying to decide whether he should broach the topic. “I thought…” he trails off, looking unsure of himself.

Hannibal smiles. Where did the fierce boy from earlier go, he wonders?

“Speak freely, Will. I won’t bite.” 

Will’s face colors again, and he looks away. “I thought you’d take me to bed by now.”

His smile widens as Will’s flush deepens. “I didn’t want to presume.” He does adopt a more somber mien, then. “I don’t want you to think that you are… pressured to offer yourself. I was telling the truth when I told you I didn’t expect reciprocation.”

Will sighs, still avoiding Hannibal’s gaze. “I’m telling you that I want it. Please don’t make this more awkward than it already is.”

“My apologies. I’m trying to be more mindful so that we won’t have future misunderstandings.”

Will snorts. “Point taken.” He meets Hannibal’s eyes then. “Will you take me to bed?”

Hannibal has never been more pleased than in that moment. “Follow me.”

Will is silent as Hannibal leads him to the bedroom on the upper floor, the boy’s eyes roaming curiously around Hannibal’s living space when they cut through the halls. Hannibal’s hand stays on Will’s lower back to steer him inside, the bedroom door closing behind them with a sense of finality.

He leans in to capture Will’s lips then, the boy opening up to him immediately as his hands wind through Hannibal’s shoulders. Hannibal smiles into the kiss.  _ So eager and pliant. _

They kiss for several minutes just like that and Hannibal savors the taste of Will’s lips. The boy lets out a sweet sigh when Hannibal’s hands settle across his back to pull them closer together. He takes the opportunity to walk Will backward until they tumble onto the king-sized bed, Will huffing with some amusement when he’s pressed against the mattress.

“Stay,” Hannibal says with a hand pressed to Will’s heaving chest.

Will only nods silently, face flushed and lips swollen from the kiss. He looks the very picture of debauched even before they begin. Hannibal wants to eat him alive.

He settles on undressing himself first, setting his clothes aside, and opening the drawer at his bedside to retrieve condoms and lubricant. Will watches him with interest, his eyes roaming across Hannibal’s body shamelessly as Hannibal straddles him. It’s a show of submission, Hannibal baring himself to the boy before he does the same to Will.

Will’s hands go to his belt, though he doesn’t get far as Hannibal nudges his hand away with a coy smile.

“Let me enjoy unwrapping my gift,” Hannibal murmurs, eyes intent on Will’s.

Will lets out a huff of embarrassed laughter. “Be my guest.”

Hannibal takes his time, stripping Will layer by layer and appreciating the expanse of skin that’s gradually exposed to him. He runs his palms over Will’s skin, relishing the shiver of pleasure that runs through Will at the light, teasing touches. He admires Will’s unmarked skin, pale against the dark blue sheets beneath him. He strokes Will’s erection with a pleased smile, Will’s cock already weeping with arousal. Will gasps when Hannibal starts to stroke him with feather-light touches, the boy arcing off the bed to seek more.

So responsive, and entirely Hannibal’s to play with and appreciate.

When the last remaining layer between them is gone, Hannibal descends upon Will, laying his body over him, rutting gently. He swallows the needy sounds slipping from Will’s mouth in a devouring kiss. Will responds with equal fervor, his hands roaming across Hannibal’s back as he returns the kiss, moaning for more.

Unlike the first time they slept together, Hannibal takes his time with Will now. That night, the two of them had been almost feral with their need to get to each other’s skin, but now Hannibal wants to prolong the experience, wants to see the limits and heights they can reach together.

He disentangles from Will to uncap the bottle of lubricant, wetting his fingers with it. The first touch to Will’s willing body draws a gasp from the boy. Will’s legs spread open wider to give Hannibal access, and Will throws an arm over his eyes, his face reddening with the scrutiny.

Hannibal smiles and focuses on his action, testing the rim around the muscle until it loosens under his fingers. Will lets out soft gasps when Hannibal begins to stretch him open, the noises involuntarily pulled out of him as Hannibal grazes his fingers against his prostate.

“Hannibal,” Will moans, eyes still hidden behind his arm.

Chuckling, Hannibal watches the boy squirm on his fingers for a moment before he takes Will’s cock in his mouth, licking the head to taste the precome leaking around it. The whimper that Will lets out is delicious, his hips bucking up to chase more.

“Oh god, please,” Will gasps out, lowering his arm to his side and grasping the sheets instead.

“Begging already?” Hannibal teases, though he’s quite pleased with how responsive Will is.

Will doesn’t answer, though he stares at Hannibal with hooded eyes, breathless with his arousal. “Please, I need you… inside me,” he stammers out, blushing furiously.

Hannibal grins at the blatant manipulation, his cock twitching with interest. “Wicked boy.”

Will manages a small smile at that, and his eyes track Hannibal’s movement as he rolls on a condom on his cock, looking at him with anticipation.

Will sighs with pleasure when Hannibal finally sinks inside him. He groans, relishing the way Will’s body parts for him. Once he’s seated fully inside, he takes a moment to memorize the sight of Will moaning prettily for him before he finally moves.

Hannibal loses himself in the sensations then, his movements practiced and almost automatic in the way he seeks out his pleasure. Will looks similarly affected, his mouth slack with pleasure and eyes fluttering shut when Hannibal seeks out the spot that would bring him the most pleasure.

Will’s hands dig into Hannibal’s back, willing him closer. He moans Hannibal’s name in between thrusts, the sounds so sweet and desperate that it makes Hannibal smile.

Hannibal insinuates a hand between their sweat-soaked bodies and wraps it around Will’s cock, using the precome to stroke it in tandem with his thrusts. Will’s nails dig almost painfully into his skin at that, and Hannibal bares his teeth in a feral smile when Will looks up at him.

“Hannibal,” Will moans weakly, squirming deliciously beneath him. “’M close.”

Hannibal hums, giving Will a peck on the lips as he strokes faster, only to squeeze the base of Will’s cock a few moments later, effectively ruining his impending orgasm.

Will keens, eyes widening when he’s denied his release. “W-wha—”

“I think I rather like hearing you beg,” Hannibal rasps.

“Hannibal _ , _ ” Will whines, eyes squeezing shut in frustration.

Hannibal ignores Will’s needy noises and continues to move, which seems to mollify Will’s frustration. He works himself in and out of Will breathlessly, watching for the telltale signs Will makes when he’s nearing the precipice of his orgasm. He sees it in the way Will’s eyes flutter shut, the whimpers slipping out of him involuntarily when Hannibal aims his thrusts to great effect.

“Will you let me give you nice things, Will?” Hannibal murmurs, eyes intent on the bewitching sight.

Will blinks, eyes half-hooded with pleasure and brows contracting with confusion. “What?”

Hannibal begins to stroke him again, punctuating his thrusts with an upward stroke, studying Will’s reactions closely. “I’d like to indulge you.”

“I-is this the time?” Will stammers out in between gasping breaths.

“You need only say yes and I’ll let you come,” Hannibal purrs.

Will’s eyes grow wider at that, his entire face reddened with the embarrassment and the desperate need to come. “Hannibal,  _ please _ —”

Hannibal punishes the boy’s writhing by letting go of Will’s cock, resting his hands on Will’s hips before he pushes them forward, almost folding the boy in half. He aims his thrusts to Will’s prostate with a grunt, satisfaction running through him when Will almost sobs with the pleasure.

“Oh god, yes, yes, whatever you want, please,  _ please _ let me come,” Will gasps, eyes unseeing as he arches towards Hannibal, seeking closeness.

It’s a dangerous thing to promise to someone like Hannibal, but he doubts Will is in his right mind to notice this right now.

The guileless response has Hannibal renewing his effort, and he’s rewarded with the beautiful sight of Will shaking apart beneath him as he comes with Hannibal’s name on his lips. He reaches his climax not long after, Will’s body clenching around him deliciously through the aftershocks of his orgasm. Hannibal groans in satisfaction, bracing himself above Will to avoid crushing the boy, staying inside Will until he softens enough to pull out. He wonders what it would feel like to spill himself inside the boy, marking him thoroughly with his seed. Maybe one day he’ll find out, if Will lets him.

Will’s eyes are still glassy, clouded with the haze of pleasure. Hannibal smiles at the pretty picture. He can’t resist smothering Will with soft, lingering kisses. Although Will is still trying to catch his breath, he responds with eagerness, parting his lips and winding his hand through Hannibal’s hair to pull him closer.

Hannibal lowers his body down then, knowing that he’s making a mess out of Will, their sweat and Will’s sticky release smearing across their entangled bodies as they exchange lazy kisses. Will doesn’t seem to mind, from the way he undulates his exhausted body against Hannibal.

They eventually part and Hannibal goes through the clean-up process silently, glancing over to Will’s exhausted profile when he pads back to the bed with a damp cloth. Will watches the way Hannibal wipes him down, almost clinical in his movement but no less gentle for it. He smiles when their eyes meet, and Hannibal can’t resist kissing him again before rising to put away the cloth in the bathroom.

When he settles back onto the bed, he places a small box next to Will, the boy eyeing it warily. Will stares at him for a few seconds, a shaky hand resting on top of the box a moment later.

“I didn’t think you were serious,” Will murmurs, avoiding Hannibal’s gaze and pretending to study the box with interest.

“I hope you’ll know better when we get to know each other,” Hannibal says, smiling at the way Will’s hand runs over the package, as if unsure whether he’s allowed to open it now. “It’s not much. You can open it now if you’d like. It’s something to complement your suit.”

Will blushes, eyes flitting to meet Hannibal’s momentarily. “I’ll open it later.” He licks his lips. “Thank you.”

Hannibal’s smile softens, pleased at the easy acquiescence. “You’re welcome. We still have desserts, if you’re not too tired.”

“Oh.” Will blinks. “I… sure.”

Hannibal chuckles. “We can have it in the living room if you’d like. I’ll fetch us robes to wear. I hope you don’t mind wearing mine for the time being.”

Will shakes his head. “Uh, I could just put on my clothes again.”

Hannibal smiles fondly at the boy spread beneath him. “It’s still early. I’m not done with you yet, darling boy.”

The blush that spreads across Will’s face is, as Hannibal expected, lovely as always. Hannibal wants to eat him alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW / CW: Orgasm denial, rough sex (?)
> 
> Fair warning: This fic has no plot whatsoever (the "plot" is basically "Sugar Daddy Hannibal and college student Will make brain go brrr"), and it's super indulgent (even more so than my usual fics lol) because I just want Hannibal to indulge Will and I want Will to revel in that indulgence. 
> 
> In other words, expect very sporadic updates whenever and wherever the muse takes me, though I do hope you continue to enjoy the ride. Thank you so much for all your support so far, it really made my day/week/2021 better <3


	4. Chapter 4

Will has never quite gotten over how lavish Hannibal’s office is even though it’s not the first time he’s seen it.

The penthouse is reserved solely for Hannibal’s use, and as Will understands it, the only one who’s allowed access to the space aside from Hannibal is Anthony. The rest of Hannibal’s clients and partners have never been invited up into Hannibal’s sanctum, at least as far as Will knows. They’re usually only allowed to meet with Hannibal on one of the lower floors which serve as Hannibal’s quasi-office and meeting space.

Now, Will counts himself among the dubiously lucky people who have been granted access to Hannibal’s sacred space (aside from his kitchen). Anthony had made Will promise that they would meet for coffee during break some other time when he’d seen Will earlier, which was a weird development. It had felt like tacit approval at the time, coming from someone who is obviously in charge of or at least intimately involved in Hannibal’s life in some capacity.

It’s nice, in a way, to be permitted to see Hannibal at the heart of his business. Will knows that it’s not a privilege granted so easily to others, and he’s grateful for it.

He’s even more grateful that the penthouse is not accessible to anyone else as he rides Hannibal, impaling himself on the man’s cock with every downward thrust. His suit jacket, pants, and boxers have been tossed aside a while ago, and his dress shirt is dampened with sweat, his thighs trembling with the exertion.

“You feel so good, Will,” Hannibal murmurs encouragingly, eyes fixed on him, teeth bared with the effort of holding back. His fingers dig almost painfully into Will’s hips, a grounding touch while Will seeks his release.

“Hannibal,” he groans, closing his eyes. He’s so close. “Touch me.”

“Is that the way to ask me, Will?”

Will groans again, pausing to glare at Hannibal.

Hannibal merely chuckles, his grip tightening on Will. “Ask me nicely, darling.”

Will shivers at the pet name. His own grip on Hannibal’s shoulders tightens and he bites his lips before letting out a frustrated sound. “Please, Hannibal.”

The smile blooming on Hannibal’s face is wicked, and Will is powerless to it. Hannibal cradles the back of his neck then, bringing their faces closer together, close enough to exchange breaths.

“Good boy,” Hannibal murmurs, eyes dancing with delight. “Move, Will. I’ll take care of you.”

That was enough to get Will moving again, their lips brushing with every other movement with how close they are. The hand on Will’s neck travels down to grasp Will’s erection, and Will gasps when Hannibal starts to stroke.

“Yes,” Will breathes out, eyes fluttering closed at the perfect friction, at the cock pressing inside him and against his prostate.

The chair they’re sitting on creaks ominously as Will gets closer to his climax, and he comes with Hannibal’s teeth in his neck, his body convulsing with the aftershocks of his orgasm. He slumps against Hannibal, letting the man take his weight without warning.

Hannibal doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, his hand circles Will’s waist, bringing them even closer. Will winces at the thought of his come messing up Hannibal’s immaculate suit, and he pulls away reluctantly to sit up straighter. Hannibal is looking at him with desire still, the arm around Will’s waist preventing him from moving farther.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Hannibal murmurs. “It’s my turn, dear boy.”

Will doesn’t get much warning beyond that before Hannibal maneuvers them off the chair in a show of strength he doesn't expect from the older man. His back hits the table – already cleared for the night when Hannibal was about to leave earlier – none too gently, though Hannibal’s hand softens the landing by cradling his head. He’s still trying to catch his breath when Hannibal thrusts back in, holding Will’s legs apart before starting a punishing rhythm.

Groaning from the pressure so soon after his orgasm, Will tries to scrabble for purchase, though there’s not much to be found. He settles his sweaty palms on the surface of the table, trying to hold on to anything he can while Hannibal chases his own climax.

“What a sight you make.” Hannibal’s praise is low, the man slightly out of breath as he pounds into Will.

It sends desire coursing through Will once more, his body flushed with the pleasure from the compliment, even as he whimpers from the overstimulation. He holds out his arms, throwing Hannibal a pleading look. Hannibal smiles at the blatant manipulation, though he does lean in closer to allow Will to loop his arms around him.

“Beautiful,” Hannibal praises, pressing soft kisses to the corner of Will’s lips, in contrast to his rough thrusts.

Will closes his eyes and lets the older man use him, even though his body is protesting its position. Ignoring the strain, he breathes in the scent of Hannibal’s cologne, elegant and understated, just like everything Hannibal does. The only time he gets to see Hannibal so disarrayed and passionate is during sex, and he takes in the sight of how fierce Hannibal looks in his fervor.

Hannibal comes after a few more thrusts, his groan reverberating through him. Will breathes a sigh of relief, wincing at the stiff and ungiving surface beneath him. Maybe he shouldn’t have initiated sex while they were at Hannibal’s office, but he hadn’t meant to start anything when he kissed Hannibal earlier.

Will had visited Hannibal for no other reason than to tell him that he was cleared for the second round of interviews after passing his first one, bursting with giddiness. When he was greeted by the sight of Hannibal in a pair of reading glasses, his first thought was _“why the fuck does he look so fucking hot in that?_ ” Can anyone blame him for wanting to kiss the man then?

And okay, so maybe he’d gone into the man’s penthouse all decked in the suit Hannibal had given him, unthinking of the consequences and the obvious pleasure the man would get from seeing Will dressed in the clothes he'd picked out personally for him. The resulting collision of their passion hadn’t been intentional, he wasn’t _trying_ to provoke Hannibal this time around. Who knew Hannibal would be so affected by the sight of him in that suit that they could barely keep their hands off each other?

…yeah, okay, maybe both of those things are actually Will’s fault. Still.

At least it was already after office hours, so he can’t bring himself to feel guilty for instigating the whole thing.

He winces when Hannibal straightens out his legs, massaging his thighs affectionately as he pulls out. Hannibal rolls the used condom off him and throws it delicately into the trash bin beneath the desk. Will colors at the thought that some poor cleaner would probably be traumatized by the sight later on; hopefully there are no cameras on this level to catch their indiscretion. Something like this is bound to set the gossip chain started.

Hannibal sighs as he rights his clothes, giving a wince of his own as he cleans off whatever he can from his clothes before doing the same for Will. “Perhaps I should invest in a bed if you’re going to ambush me at my office next time.”

Will snorts, still lying on the desk. “You could’ve taken me back to your house first. I didn’t think you’d have the impulse of a five-year-old.”

Hannibal throws him a wide smile. “I do when it comes to you.”

“Hmm. Flatterer. You ruined the suit.”

“Nonsense. We’ll just send it for dry cleaning.”

 _We’ll._ Will’s belly flutters with the implication. “Uh, sorry. I think I ruined yours.”

“The dry cleaning here works wonders. Anthony will sort it out.”

The reminder that someone else would find out about their little tête-à-tête in the office brings a flush to his cheeks. “Oh, God.”

“Don’t worry,” Hannibal chuckles. “Anthony has seen worse.”

Will’s brows furrow. “You bring a lot of people up here to… do whatever it is you do to them?”

The chuckle turns into a fond smile, and Hannibal pulls him up to a stand. 

“No, dear boy,” Hannibal sighs, trying to tame Will’s curls to no avail. “He’s seen many other things of course, but nothing quite like this.”

Will licks his lips, ashamed at his own jealousy. Why should he care if Hannibal has spent some other nights with others before him? He’s an older man, for goodness' sake, he’s bound to have had previous lovers. He sighs at his own conflicted feelings, though he allows Hannibal to right his clothes while he’s distracted. Hannibal silently hands him his boxers and pants, his eyes tracking Will’s movements as he puts them back on.

“Stop looking at me like that or I’ll never finish dressing,” Will mutters, though there’s no heat to his words.

Hannibal smiles and waits until Will is dressed again to hand him his suit jacket. With the jacket on, Will looks presentable once more, though there’s no helping his hair at this rate. He runs his fingers through it to try and tame it, even knowing that it’s futile. 

“I’m glad I got to see you in it,” Hannibal says. He’s holding the last of Will’s articles in his hand – the tie that he had gotten for Will the last time they had met. He hands it over without fanfare, though there’s a small smile playing at his lips. Pleased that Will had given in so easily to his whims and desires, maybe.

Will takes the tie and shoves it inside the jacket pocket. “I’m glad you got to see it too,” he says with a cheeky smile.

“Congratulations again,” Hannibal says, pulling him for a soft kiss.

Will chases Hannibal’s lips when he pulls away, wanting more. Ever since he’s given in to his own desires when it comes to Hannibal, he’s been doused in it. It’s a heady feeling, being wanted, especially by someone like Hannibal; he can admit that much now. Hannibal’s a busy man, so they don’t get to meet all that often, but somehow the man makes some time to ask after Will when he finds himself at leisure to entertain.

Will had agreed; it’s not like he had much to do, with his classes mostly over and his thesis more or less done. He’s mostly waiting to hear from the myriad of companies he’s interviewed at, at this rate. In any case, it’s nice to have someone who seems to like him this much, even though that someone is clearly out of his league and very much older than him.

Aside from Beverly, he’s never had any lasting friendships, let alone lasting relationships. His moments with Alana were cut too short when Alana realized that she couldn’t “save him from his darkness” (whatever that means), while his time with Matthew was a nightmare of a different proportion (he’d rather not talk about it). Where Alana wanted to mold him into something he could never be, Matthew had preconceived notions of who and what Will was. Needless to say, both of their expectations of him can go get fucked.

Hannibal is a breath of fresh air in that he doesn’t seem to have any expectations of Will. Well, other than wanting Will to let himself be pampered and wanting Will in the more carnal aspects whenever they could get their hands on each other. Those expectations are so much easier to fulfill. He’s finding it harder to deny Hannibal his desires because it so often matches his own. In the last few weeks, he has found that he likes to be pampered, to be cherished by someone who seems to truly enjoy his company, even outside of their coital and post-coital moments.

It’s a novel experience, to say the least, and very much a “work in progress” thing. (Seriously though, what was with Hannibal’s preoccupation with the whole lavish gift thing?)

“Don’t congratulate me just yet,” Will replies. “I still have the second round of interviews to go through.”

“I’m sure you would do similarly well,” Hannibal says, the creases around his eyes crinkling with something like fondness. “Would you like to have dinner?”

Will looks at his watch. “Uh... what exactly do you have in mind? Just as long as I can catch the last train later.”

Hannibal tuts. “You’ve come so far to see me, surely you’re not planning to just use me for my body. Allow me to feed you, at least. I’ll send you home after.”

Though he’s gotten used to the thought that Hannibal takes pleasure in this gift-giving ritual of theirs, it’s another thing to accept it sometimes. There’s an immediate retort at the tip of his tongue, but he swallows it down in the next moment and reigns in his knee-jerk reaction of rejecting every kindness that comes his way. It takes a lot of work to swallow your pride and habits, sometimes.

His hesitation doesn’t go unnoticed, and Hannibal smiles that private smile of his. A smile that he reserves for when he thinks he’s figured Will out somehow. With Hannibal, he doesn’t doubt it.

“You can feed me,” Will allows. “Feed me _food._ But I still have to catch the last train.”

Hannibal chuckles. “What did you think I was going to feed you? You have quite the naughty streak.”

Will feels his face coloring, though he shrugs nonchalantly. “I’m just saying that I need food right now instead of other means of sustenance.”

“Of course,” Hannibal replies, amused. “I know just the place. But first, let’s freshen up in the bathroom, shall we?”

The place turns out to be a Japanese restaurant called O-ku somewhere in DC.

Hannibal’s driver pulls up to the shoulder of the road mere seconds after they step out of the fancy building that housed Ravenstag & Co.’s office. Will exchanges an awkward smile with the driver when he slid in after Hannibal. The man is watching him with beady eyes and doesn’t return Will’s smile.

Despite that disconcerting moment, the ride is pleasant enough as the two of them talk throughout the journey. Hannibal has vast and surprisingly varied knowledge, as Will found out. Maybe he shouldn’t be surprised by it; the man must have immersed himself in his studies before turning his attention to his business. Besides, he did have almost twenty years on Will.

Something pleasurable coils inside him at the thought that Hannibal has preempted his worry over the last train by taking him somewhere closer to where he lives. Sometimes, he wonders if Hannibal is always this accommodating with anyone else. He doubts it, somehow; Hannibal did not get to where he is right now without stepping on some toes or two.

It takes them well over an hour to get there while the two of them chat over inane things (he’d been happy to find out that he did not, in fact, throw up in the car the last time he’d passed out drunk in it).

When they arrive at the restaurant, Will is glad that he’s at least dressed somewhat appropriately for the crowd. Though it doesn’t look like a fine dining restaurant, it is a bit more upscale than what Will is usually used to. The other patrons are smartly dressed, and the simplistic decor speaks to a more posh clientele. At the very least, he wouldn’t look too out of place when he’s standing next to Hannibal in his usual ostentatious suit.

They’re ushered discreetly on the rooftop, Will following Hannibal silently as his gaze sweeps over the restaurant.

The view is undoubtedly beautiful; it’s just before dusk, and the blush of the sky is punctuated by puffs of stray clouds congregating forward. The DC area is not littered with skyscrapers, and so their view of the sky is unobstructed by buildings when the waiter directs them to a corner table on the rooftop. There are fairy lights lining the open-air space, the lights glinting softly in the twilight hour. The weather is cool, with the worst of the winter air gone by then. Soon the sakura trees will blossom and Will would be graduating with the rest of his class.

Despite the sizable crowd, the ambiance of the restaurant remains muted and understated. The patrons are deep in conversation as they consume their meals. Definitely a departure from the raucous din Will is more accustomed to whenever Beverly forces him to socialize at the local watering holes near GWU.

True to form, Hannibal has already ordered everything for the two of them, which means Will can bypass the awkward dance of asking what’s good from a menu he doesn’t recognize. The sushi he’s had were the ones he’d bought from the supermarkets at a highly discounted price. He’s never gone through a fine dining experience, and it shows when the selections of meals are placed on their table. A variety of colors and scents assault his senses, and despite his overwhelmed state, his mouth begins to water.

“Hannibal, this is not a meal for two.”

Hannibal smiles. “I may have gone overboard, but I wanted you to experience this with me. I have every faith in your ability to consume everything on the table.”

Will laughs. “Yeah, yeah, make fun of the whole ‘hungry student inhales every last bit of the food’ all you want. You’re the one who would be sad if they ban you from this place next time.”

“They wouldn’t dare,” Hannibal says simply.

And well. Will believes that. No one would dare say no to Hannibal, least of all Will. He’s seen firsthand just how strong Hannibal’s gravitational pull is on everyone surrounding him; he can’t help but be affected by it. Hannibal’s assured manner is sometimes infuriating, but at times Will just finds it hot, which is unbelievable. _Why_ is it so hot? It doesn’t make sense.

“Uh, where do I start?” Will looks at the choices helplessly.

“Here, follow my lead.”

Will does, his eyes tracking Hannibal’s movements as he picks up one of the sushi with a chopstick, putting everything in his mouth before he chews and swallows it. Will selects one of the less daunting-looking ones (the Japanese food _he’s_ used to are the maki rolls where cucumbers and eggs feature heavily in between the rice – suffice to say there were no cucumbers or eggs on any of the platters) and does the same, and he hums appreciatively around a mouthful of it.

Hannibal throws him a pleased smile when Will takes another one, and he watches Will for a few more seconds before he tucks in. They enjoy the meal in silence, and Will doesn’t miss the way Hannibal audibly _savors_ the meal. It’s the only word to describe it, with the way Hannibal closes his eyes as if he can taste the food much better that way. Maybe he can, somehow.

In between bites, Hannibal gives him a rundown of what they’re eating in a quiet, pleased tone (scallops, salmon, unagi, oyster, enoki mushrooms and the most mouth-watering Wagyu beef Will has ever eaten). His eyes never stray far from Will’s face while they eat and talk. Will has more or less gotten used to Hannibal’s intense stares, but it still makes his skin flush with equal parts embarrassment and pleasure to be the subject of the man’s scrutiny.

As Hannibal predicted, Will did end up finishing most of the food. Even as his stomach bursts with his own gluttony, he can’t bring himself to regret it. With his belly full and the sake warming his body, he listens to Hannibal talk, the man looking supremely pleased with having Will indulging himself at his behest.

“My Aunt Murasaki said this once: ‘The feast is life; you put food in your belly, and you live.’” Hannibal smiles at that. “She’s given me countless inspirations throughout the decades, but that one has stayed with me most.”

Intrigued, Will straightens in his seat and leans his elbows on the table, taking another sip of sake. “You lived in Japan?”

“For a year or two,” Hannibal replies. “It was after I’ve completed my studies in Italy. I was pondering on my next step. Initially, I planned to become a surgeon once I’ve received a residency placement somewhere in the US.”

Will blinks at that revelation, stunned. “You were studying medicine? Huh.”

Hannibal grins. “You haven’t looked me up after all this time?”

Will shrugs. “Why should I? Those are information that has gone through countless filters before it’s published. I’d much rather hear about it from you.”

“Hmm. Fair point. You’re a much more accomplished flatterer than I take you for.”

Will scoffs. “I don’t do it to get something out of it, unlike someone else I know,” he replies pointedly.

“Another fair point.” Hannibal chuckles. “In any case, my aunt managed to persuade me to accompany her to Japan for a few years. By then, Uncle Robert had passed away, and I felt it would be my filial duty to fulfill Murasaki’s request. Of course, it helped that I’ve always been curious about her homeland.”

“So, you changed your mind once you lived there? Seems like a bit of a jump from surgeon to… whatever it is that you do as a CEO.”

“A self-help guru?” Hannibal asks with a self-deprecating turn of his lips.

“Yes, that.” Will laughs. “Your words, not mine.”

Hannibal only inclines his head in acknowledgment. “In any case, the stay proved revelatory. My life with Murasaki was a simple one compared to the one we experienced in Italy. She was very helpful when I asked her of her practices and what inspired her to live the way she lived.”

Understanding dawns on him. “She passed away?” 

“Yes, but she’s made her peace with it by then,” Hannibal says with a smile. There’s a faraway look in his eyes as he speaks. “I was glad I was with her up until her last moment. It gave me something to think about, her death. By the time she passed away, she was happy at the thought that she'd left her own legacy. It was one that she has worked for though it wasn’t obvious to me at the time. She’s managed to accomplish something, in leaving her imprint on the world. I saw another way in which I could help others then, and it put me on my current path.”

“I’m glad,” Will admits with a soft smile. “I admit I still think all this self-help stuff is bogus, but there are some merits to some of the things in those books.”

“It’s either that or becoming a psychiatrist.” Hannibal smiles. “It’s an interesting way to explore the human’s psyche, isn’t it?”

“Uh…”

“Clearly, you don’t agree.”

“Yeah, I’m glad you didn’t go into psychiatry.”

Hannibal chuckles. “In this way, I can reach out to more people. Therapy is expensive; a book and my seminar are more affordable in the long run.”

Will laughs. “Oh, you just like the thought of influencing people, don’t you? And I’m sure the wider reach and the fame _and_ the money don’t play a factor into it at all.”

“I never said it didn’t.”

Will laughs. “Maybe you should’ve been a lawyer.”

“There’s nothing interesting for me in that particular field, unfortunately.”

Will is about to answer when his phone rings, and he gives Hannibal an apologetic smile when he sees Beverly's name. “Sorry, I have to take this.”

Hannibal nods and sips his drink quietly while Will answers the phone with a soft voice, leaning away slightly.

“Will? Sorry, you’re probably busy with the interview and all but… can you come back right now?”

Will frowns at Beverly’s tone. “Sure. I’m nearby, sort of. You okay?”

A sniff on the other line. “Yeah, I’m fine. But can you come back?”

“Yeah, okay, I’ll be there soon.” Puzzled, he hangs up and turns to Hannibal. He’s startled into a laugh when he sees the way Hannibal stares at his phone. “What? Stop glaring at my phone.”

“Why are you still using a flip phone, Will?”

“What? They’re cheap! And functional. Seriously, stop glaring at it.”

“Please tell me you didn’t buy this secondhand.”

“I didn’t, stop questioning my life choices. I inherited this.” Will laughs at the face Hannibal makes. “Don’t judge, it works pretty well. I just use them to text and call. Anyway, that’s beside the point. I need to get back now, sorry.”

“Oh, was there any problem?”

“Uh, I’m sure it’s nothing.” At least he hopes it’s nothing. It’s not often he’s heard Beverly sounding so ruffled. “But I really need to get back.”

“Of course, I’ll take you home.”

There’s no use protesting, he knows that, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t try. It’s a very half-hearted objection, at any rate; there was no way he’s going to pay for an Uber or Lyft, and it’d take longer if he takes the metro. So he lets himself be ushered into Hannibal’s car once more, with Hannibal assuring him that he’ll have Will home within fifteen minutes.

“Thanks for tonight,” Will says, keeping his voice low. He’s still kind of weirded out by the driver, even if the man doesn’t seem to be listening to their conversation. “And for… the suit and other things.”

Hannibal smirks at the reminder of their earlier tussle at his office. “Anytime, of course. Now, about your phone—”

“Hannibal, no,” Will laughs. “Seriously, it’s working fine. I only need to charge it every week or so – which reminds me, I should charge it soon.”

“A phone would be a practical gift.”

“My phone is already practical.”

“You might need a more advanced one when you enter the workforce. One that doesn’t flip.”

“I’m sure they’ll provide me with something better if they need me to have a better phone. Emails exist, you know. And I don’t think they expect me to do work on my phone.”

“They might need something beyond the text-and-call option.”

“Then _they_ can give me one. What’s the hang up with my flip phone? It suits my purpose.”

“I’d like you to have nice things.”

“…yes, I think we’ve established that. Uh, can this conversation wait?” Will is made doubly aware of the driver when he catches the man staring at him covertly through the rearview mirror. “When no one else is around.”

Hannibal catches his meaning, and he accepts the postponement begrudgingly. He settles back in his seat and gives up on the endeavor. At least for now.

Will breathes out a sigh of relief when the car comes to a stop in front of the apartment complex he shares with Beverly. Before getting out, he turns back to Hannibal and leans in to press his lips to the corner of Hannibal’s lips.

Hannibal smiles at that, his hand winding into Will’s curls to pull him in for a deeper kiss. Will allows it for a few more seconds before he gently pushes Hannibal away.

“See you,” Will breathes out. “I’ll call you tomorrow?”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

Will huffs. “I’m sure you will. Thanks again.”

He waves at Hannibal until the car pulls away from the apartment, and only then does he make his way inside his apartment. The lights in the living room are off, but he hears a telltale sniff from the area. It only takes him a few seconds to realize that the sniffles are coming from her. He finds Beverly lying down on her side on the couch, her face and the upper half of her body covered by a pashmina.

“Bev?” He sits down on the floor next to where Beverly’s head presumably is. A few stray hair strands stick out from the pashmina covering her. “You okay?”

Beverly finally sticks out her head over the pashmina, her bloodshot eyes peering at him blearily. “Oh Will, you’re here,” she sighs. “Sorry, I’m just so sleepy… what time is it?”

“It’s 7.30. You okay? You sound kinda off.”

“Yeah, I think I came down with something.” She groans as she tries to sit up, finally giving up and sinking back into the couch. “That’s not why I called you. It’s my parents.”

“What happened?”

“They got into an accident.”

“What? Are they okay?”

“They’re… I think they’re fine but I don’t know for sure, Grace called me earlier but I couldn’t ask for more since I was feeling kinda off. Still do.”

“Grace?”

“My sister.”

“Jesus. Where are they now?”

“Hospital in New York. God, my head is killing me.”

“Okay, what can I do to help?”

“I feel terrible about asking this, but… are you free for the next few days?”

“Yeah, my interview’s done for now.”

“Can you drive us down there? I just want to make sure my parents are okay. My sister wouldn’t tell me how bad it was. So. That’s not worrying at all.” Even in her sickness, Beverly still manages to sound dry with her observations. 

“Of course, you want to go now? Uh, I think we might need some meds for whatever it is you’re having.”

“Way ahead of you. I took some when I called you. Not gonna be in driving condition after that. Oh, car keys are in my bag, can you grab them for me?”

“Okay, that’s good. So uh, I’ll just go pack some stuff. You need my help with yours?”

“Just grab whatever. Oh, my toothbrush! I’ll just borrow everything else from my sister later. I think I need a nap. Wake me when you’re ready to go?”

“Yeah, hang on. I’ll wake you up in a bit.”

In all the times he’d been friends with Beverly, she had never shown any signs of weakness, much less gotten sick. Sure, they both get hangovers sometimes – either from drunkenness or from cramming everything they can into their heads when exam times roll around – but for the most part, the two of them never really fell sick.

Beverly was out of it for the whole journey while Will drove them out to New York City. As far as Will knows, Beverly’s parents are pretty well-to-do, judging by the location of their residence on the Upper East Side of the city. He knows that their family’s fortune is borne out of a combination of hard work and luck, by being at the right place at the right time. Her parents were immigrants from different continents who had found their way to the US while opportunities were plentiful and hard work paid off pretty well. Their wealth and high standing in society were only recently won after decades of hard work, and they’d made sure their children knew what it was like to grow up fighting nail and tooth for a comfortable life.

Will can imagine Beverly growing up on the streets of Manhattan, moving around the gridlines of the city while she walks to school, and then to a private tutor who would give her violin classes before she would make her way back home. It wasn’t all hard work and no play, or so he assumes when Beverly constantly kicks his ass at pool when they go out on bar nights. 

Now, as she sleeps in the passenger seat, her breathing heavier than normal, Will occasionally catches glimpses of her face, looking peaceful in sleep. It’s obvious that she’s worried about her parents; she wouldn’t have asked him to drive them for a three-hours’ journey otherwise. Despite her seemingly cavalier attitude and her no-nonsense ways, Beverly must feel some sort of anxiety over their accident. It doesn’t take his empathy to see that.

The two of them finally find their way to the hospital room almost four hours later, Will running on adrenaline and the cheap coffee he'd bought on the way. Beverly’s eyes are still bloodshot with fatigue and possibly fever, but she looks better than Will feels. He’s dreading the idea of finding out what happened to Beverly’s parents as he shadows her while she navigates her way through the hospital purposefully.

He swallows his trepidation when a woman lets them inside the hospital room, the plaque at the door bearing the names “Katz, A. & Katz, E”.

“Beverly!” the woman says, looking bewildered. “What are you doing here? You look like hell.”

“Hey, Grace, nice to see you too. Feels like hell, if I'm honest. I’m here because you wouldn’t tell me more about Mom and Dad’s condition, why else do you think?”

“I told you not to come down because we’re _fine._ You’re not gonna collapse on me, are you?”

“You’re not fine, you’re like eighteen. Where’s the sofa? I just need to sit down for a bit.”

Beverly makes her way further inside, leaving Will shuffling awkwardly at the door. He has half a mind to turn around to go and find coffee or something to entertain himself when he hears Beverly’s barking voice from inside.

“Will, what are you doing, get in here!”

Sighing, Will does so, smiling awkwardly at Grace as he makes his way inside.

“Who’s this?” she asks, throwing an intrigued look at Beverly. “Your boyfriend?”

Beverly, who’s found a sofa in the corner of the room and is busy making herself at home, barks out a rasping laugh. “God, no. No offense, Graham.”

“None taken, but only because the same sentiment applies here.”

Grace, still looking at Will with a mixture of intrigued and suspicion, smiles at that. “Oh, so exes then?”

“God, Grace, lay it off, will you?” Beverly’s eyes go towards the two beds that house her parents, who are silent with what looks like a medically induced sleep. “They’re really okay?”

Grace sits next to Beverly on the long couch, peering warily at her sister. “They’re really okay. Docs gave them meds a few hours ago to knock them out for some rest.”

“Surgery?”

“For Dad. He broke his leg, Mom got away with fractures and a few stitches. Doctor said they’ll make full recovery in a few months.”

“Thank God.”

“I _told_ you not to worry, you always overreact. Did you drive all the way here?”

“Will drove me here.” Beverly looks to where Will is still hovering near the closed door, her smile widening into a grin. “Come on Will, don’t look so awkward over there. Take a seat.”

“Uh, I think you guys have to go back soon,” Grace says, wincing. “Sorry, curfew’s in another couple of minutes. You can probably stay since you’re family, but I don’t think your friend can stay.”

Will looks at his watch. Grace is right, sooner or later the nurse doing the rounds would come around to throw him out of here.

Beverly sighs at that, and she stares at the beeping monitors at her parents’ bedside for several minutes. Their heartbeats are steadily thrumming, at least, which must have given Beverly some comfort since she shrugs afterward.

“Fine, but I’m coming back tomorrow when they wake up. You’re staying here for the night?”

“Yeah, they’re only letting one person stay though.”

"You sure you're okay here?"

"Bev, I'm eighteen, chill. It's just a sleepover on a couch, nothing I haven't experienced before."

Beverly snorts. “Okay. I’m going home, I think I need to sleep off the last of this bug anyway. I’m taking your room.”

“What, why?”

“Because Will’s sleeping in mine, duh.”

“Ugh, fine, don’t touch anything.”

“I will swear to nothing.”

“I knew you were gonna say that.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Sure, see you, Bev. Go get some sleep, you look horrible.”

“Thanks,” she replies wryly before turning to Will. “Come on, you heard what Grace said.”

Will smiles. “You sure are bossy for someone who played dead all the way here.”

“I was preserving my energy,” Beverly retorts in between a loud sneeze. “See you Grace! Tell Mom and Dad I love them.”

“Tell them yourself tomorrow!”

The two of them wave to Grace as they leave the hospital, both of them looking dead on their feet. It’s past midnight by the time they made it back to Beverly’s parents’ residence in the Lenox Hill area. He’s too tired that he doesn’t even take in his surroundings once Beverly shows him to her old room. The sight of a bed has never been more welcomed, and before he knows it, he’s already asleep.

The next morning, Beverly wakes him up with an insistent nudge to his shoulder. He’s only aware he’s drooling when Beverly points it out.

“You’re drooling all over my pillow and you didn’t even have the decency to take me out on a nice date,” she says with a smirk.

Will groans. “’Time is it?”

“It’s half-past nine. You slept like a log.”

“You look better.”

“Loads better. Took some meds from my mom’s stash, they always work wonders. You feeling okay?”

“Yeah, just tired.” The reply is punctuated with a yawn. “You want me to drive you to the hospital?”

“Nah, it’s close, we can just walk there. You up for some breakfast? Come on, I’ll take you somewhere before we go to see my parents. They’re probably having their meals if they’re already awake, no sense in crashing their party.”

“Sure, let me just take a quick shower.”

“Go wash my pillowcase while you’re at it.”

“Wow, you’re such a great host.”

“I’m an awesome one; who else would whisk you to Manhattan on a weekend?”

“Well technically, I’m the one who drove you here…”

“Hush, small details. Now come on or you’ll be getting no breakfast at all.”

“I’m going, I’m going.”

He’d never had the occasion to wonder what the Upper East Side would look like, so he had no expectations of it whatsoever. Coming from a humbler root, the whole concept of an affluent neighborhood had never entered his mind before he met someone like Hannibal. It was weird to see Beverly navigate her way around the area so confidently, even if Will knew part of her background. He’d never imagined Beverly’s childhood before this, though he knew that her parents recently came into fortune in the last decade. It was another aspect of his friend that he’d never thought to ask about; it would be too much like prying.

Beverly takes him to one of the delis around the neighborhood where the two of them enjoy a hearty breakfast and a much-needed coffee. The deli is almost full, most of the locals already out and about on a Saturday morning. Beverly scores them a table without a problem, ordering for the two of them and paying before Will could protest. 

“God, I’d marry this coffee if I could,” Will groans, closing his eyes when the bitter taste alights on his tongue.

“Jeez, be polite and take it out on a few dates first, where’s your manner?”

“Nope, this coffee is so good that we’re going to elope after having a one-hour conversation, that’s how good it is.”

“What, your sugar daddy’s coffee can’t compete— oh my God, stop spitting coffee at me!”

Will covers his mouth with his fist as he tries to control his coughing fit, though he does manage to throw a glare in Beverly’s direction in between his coughs.

“Stop being such a prude,” Beverly laughs. “There’s no harm in being a sugar baby.”

“Stop talking right now,” Will hisses, casting a wary glance around the deli to make sure no one has heard them. There are a few interested onlookers, though most of them look away when Will catches them staring.

Beverly’s chortles fill in the silence, looking far too amused for something that is so decidedly unamusing. “Okay, but riddle me this, then: did he or did he not give you the suit you were wearing last night?”

“Were you faking your whole sickness thing? When the hell did you even have the time to notice the suit?”

“I have eyes, Will.” Beverly scoffs before stealing the last of Will’s cinnamon roll for herself.

Will frowns. “One suit doesn’t make me a sugar baby.”

“Mmhmm. I’m sure he doesn’t have other gifts lined up for you, just waiting to be unleashed at the right time.”

“He doesn’t.” Even as he says it, he knows it’s a lie. He knows all too well that Hannibal is just biding his time until he can probably give Will something even more extravagant than that suit if that one night he'd spent in Hannibal's bedroom was any indication.

“And how would you know?”

He deflates at that. “I guess I don’t.”

Beverly scoffs again. “Wow, I’ve never seen someone so defeated at being made a sugar baby before. Relax, Will, no one here is gonna judge you. Hell, we’re at the UES, where you’re more likely to find some _tai tais_ lounging around while spending their husband’s money.”

“A what now?”

 _“Tai tais?_ ” Beverly grins conspiratorially. “That’s our nickname for them, though I’ll spare you the cultural etymology on that. Pay attention to the super well-dressed ladies who look like they have nothing to do but lounge around all day. You know those well-off ladies in Victorian England who spend all their leisure time reading, playing the piano, and drinking tea for months on end? Yeah, the _tai tais_ are the modern equivalent of that.”

“Huh. Thanks for the info, I guess.”

“I ain’t judging,” Beverly says, shrugging. “If I could marry well and not have to work for the rest of my life, I’d jump at the chance too. Although I’d probably still work anyway. I’m having too much fun looking at dead bodies and having fun at the thought of potentially looking at _more_ dead bodies, so.”

“You’ll be a riot at the FBI parties.”

“I sure will be, and I’m going to make sure you’re right there listening to me and my riot.”

Will sighs. “I’m not gonna make the cut, you know that.”

“Nothing is impossible, Graham. I mean, a few weeks ago you were still moping over Alana, but look where you are now.”

“Being your chauffeur in the middle of Manhattan?”

“There are worse fates. You done with your coffee? Not gonna get down on one knee to propose?”

“Not after you’ve made me spill most of it.”

“You’re such a drama queen, I’ll get you a new one to-go. Come on, we have to get to the hospital now, my dear chauffeur.”

“Of course, milady.”

“That’s the spirit, you’re really getting the hang of this. We’ll make a proper _tai tais_ out of you yet.”

Alex and Elicia Katz are already awake by the time Will and Beverly find their way to the hospital. They look lucid enough for a light conversation, both of them sitting up in their beds as they talk to Grace when Beverly enters the room in her usual boisterous manner.

“Hello, parental units!”

“Beverly!” Elicia says, her eyes lighting up at her daughter’s appearance. “Darling, we’ve been waiting for you.”

Beverly rushes forward to hug her parents, lingering by their bedside to assess their condition with narrowed eyes. “You guys doing okay?”

“Not too bad,” Alex says, sighing and gesturing to his leg, a bandaged cast wrapped around it. “Looks like I’ll be bed-bound for a few weeks though.”

“God, I’m so glad it’s not worse than that, what happened?”

As Beverly’s parents recount the tale of their accident, Will tries to make his way inside the room as unobtrusively as possible since Grace has seen his presence. He doubts both Grace and Beverly would let him leave, and his suspicion is confirmed when Grace beckons him to join her on the sofa. He remains silent, however, content to sit back on the sofa as Beverly’s parents continue the retelling of their experience.

“We’re lucky we were so close to home when it happened,” Elicia laments, looking exhausted. “And lucky it’s not more serious than this. Though I’m worried for Grace.”

“Mom, I’ll be fine,” Grace says, rolling her eyes.

“You’re not going to stay here to care for them and miss school, are you?” Beverly says with a quelling look. “It’s your final year!”

“I didn’t say anything about missing school,” Grace challenges.

“Girls, stop fighting,” Alex says, frowning when his eyes finally alight on Will. “And who’s this? You brought some young man to meet us to get our blessings and you didn’t even introduce us?”

“Please stop it,” Beverly says with a long-suffering sigh. “Will is a friend, so no blessings needed. He’s my roommate.”

“Oh!” Elicia smiles at that. “You’re the roommate! It’s so nice to finally put a face to a name.”

“Uh, hi.” Will gives them an awkward wave and a smile. “Yeah, Bev finally got me out of the cave.”

“Oh, he’s so cute,” Elicia gushes. “But darling, you’re so thin, if you don’t mind me saying so. What took you so long to bring him to us, Beverly?”

“Mom, no!” Beverly laughs. “Seriously, he’s just a friend. He drove me all the way here because I wasn’t feeling too well yesterday.” At the concerned look on her parents’ face, she rolls her eyes. “I’m fine now, obviously. Thanks for the ginseng, by the way.”

“Oh, did you go home last night?” Elicia asks. “I hope you were a proper host.”

“I was on my best behavior, scout’s honor.”

Grace snorts. “You never earned a scout’s badge. You weren't even a scout.”

“She slept all the way in the car,” Will chips in.

Elicia looks scandalized at that. “Beverly!”

Beverly glares at him, though there’s a hint of an amused smile curling at her lips. “I’ll make it up to him later _if he behaves._ ”

Will chuckles at the threat, though he shrugs and leans back on the sofa to make himself more comfortable as he listens to their banter. It’s unexpectedly nice, in a way, for him to get to witness this side of Beverly that he hasn’t seen before. She seems much more relaxed and animated now that she’s seen that her parents are fine.

The four of them look like the very picture of a happy, functional family. Something which Will was obviously lacking in his life, though he can’t really complain. His Pa had given him everything that he could, even with their constraints and less than fortunate circumstances, and he wouldn’t change a thing about his life even if he were given a choice.

They stay over at the hospital for several hours, talking about everything and nothing. Will stays at the back of the group, silent and observing happily. It’d be a lie to say that he doesn’t exactly envy their happy lives, but he knows that such things are not for him. So, he enjoys the moment for what it is and inserts himself into the conversation when Beverly forces him to participate.

It’s easy to fall in step with them, what with his empathy, but even he has his limits. When the watch on his wrist reads 5 PM, he feels emotionally spent, and Beverly seems to sense it. She makes their excuses to leave since they had to return to DC soon (which isn’t exactly a lie; the two of them had a lot to prepare for in the upcoming week to finalize their thesis).

Their reluctant separation seems to bring the mood slightly down, though Alex and Elicia take a moment to profess their love for Will before letting the two of them leave.

“Don’t be a stranger after this,” Elicia says. “Any friend of Beverly is welcomed to visit us.”

“Yes, you have to come back here when it’s spring, it’s a wonderful time to sightsee around here.”

“Oh, Alex, he’s not going to be impressed by New York.”

“Nonsense, everyone’s impressed by New York. Glittering lights and all that.”

Will can’t exactly say he agrees with Alex’s assessment, though he does offer a genuine smile at their heartfelt invitation. “Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Don’t worry, I’m going to force him to come here for our graduation road trip,” Beverly declares, throwing an arm around Will’s shoulder, which prompts an eye roll from him.

“Pfft, road trips are way better when you take Route 66,” Grace quips.

“What do you know, you haven’t even passed your driver’s license exams,” Beverly says with a teasing grin.

“For the last time, I only failed by one point! Who even looks at all three mirrors before making a turn?”

“Yeah, tell that to your examiner.”

They leave amidst Beverly and Grace’s squabbling before Grace finally waves them off. Will smiles all the way as Beverly talks, the two of them making their way back to the Katz’s residence to pick up Beverly’s car. Beverly complains about Grace’s lack of vision for her future while decrying her parents’ indulgence of her (classic frustrations coming from an older sibling, or so Will has been given to understand). Beneath her grouchy tone, however, there’s a hint of joviality and fondness that speaks of how much Beverly loves her family.

For his part, Will listens and nods in all the right places throughout their walk. It’s been an enjoyable weekend, despite the exhaustion they're bound to feel when they get back to DC later tonight.

“Thanks, Will, for doing this,” Beverly says just as they arrive at her house.

Will shrugs awkwardly. “I just drove you here.”

“You stayed by my side through it all,” Beverly reminds him. “You hate socializing with a passion, and yet you stayed with me even though you looked like you were almost dying by the end of it.”

“Was it that obvious?” Will asks weakly.

Beverly laughs. “Only to someone who knows you well, I guess. Anyway, I’m feeling better now, so it’s your turn to sleep. Get in, Graham, I’ll be your chauffeur for now.”

“Ay ay, captain.”

It’s not until Beverly begins the drive back to DC that he remembers to check his phone for any messages from Hannibal while he was gone. He sighs when he realizes that in all the confusion of their hectic impromptu trip, he’d neglected to charge his phone. It now lay dead in his hand, and he sighs at the thought that Hannibal would probably ask for an explanation later when Will failed to call him as promised.

There's a sense of uneasiness growing inside him at that realization, but it’s not like he can do anything about it now. So he pushes the thought aside and tries to fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In defense of Will, who wouldn't climb this man like a tree [upon such a sight](https://i.imgur.com/zexVJWF.jpg)? (And honestly, this whole photoshoot was what instigated this AU so thanks, Mads.)


	5. Chapter 5

Hannibal hasn’t heard from Will in three days and thirteen hours since their last dinner together.

It doesn’t escape his notice that he knows the exact hours of their separation. An indication that doesn’t bode well, in any event. It means he’s becoming… attached. Which is a disconcerting thought considering he’s only known Will for less than a month and has met Will four times in total, their first ill-advised meeting included.

The thought is further reinforced when he looks at the new phone – one that he’d recently bought for Will – on his work desk, still in its pristine packaging. It was an impulsive purchase, especially after Will had specifically told him that his phone works fine.

Evidently, it did not, since Hannibal had not received a call from the boy in the three days since.

He lets out a heavy sigh before he distracts himself with work. It’s 8 AM on a Tuesday – still too early to be so distracted by such matters. Perhaps Will was busy, or perhaps something had happened in the meantime. (This doesn’t make him feel any better; he would rather Will call him if he was in some sort of trouble, even though he knows they’ve barely known each other.)

It’s rare for him to be so preoccupied by something else, and he supposes his distraction is apparent when Anthony comes bustling in and frowning when he sees the look on Hannibal’s face.

“What’s the matter?” Anthony asks, matching Hannibal’s frown with one of his own. “Did one of the deals just fall through?”

Hannibal’s mask is back in place in the next moment, though he knows Anthony’s suspicion has been flagged. “I was just wondering about my schedule, and here you are just in time.”

“I was only late for ten minutes this morning,” Anthony says with a roguish grin as he hands over a tablet for Hannibal to peruse.

“A miracle,” Hannibal responds dryly, though he does smile more genuinely at that. “So, a few meetings this morning with our internal teams.”

“Yes, and I’m afraid there’s no running from the afternoon meeting with _Hollistic,_ they’ve been chasing you for weeks.”

“Duly noted.” Hannibal hums. “But there’s nothing else after that?”

Anthony raises an eyebrow. “Got somewhere to be?”

“Perhaps.”

Anthony gives him another one of his trademark smirks. “Wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain Will Graham, would it?”

Hannibal doesn’t say anything to that, aiming a level stare at Anthony instead.

“Oh, please,” Anthony laughs, “your scary looks won’t work on me anymore. Don’t think I didn’t notice you two leaving the office in less pristine condition than when you came in last Friday.”

That gives him pause. “I thought you were gone by then.”

“Had to come back to grab something,” Anthony smirks. “So the phone is for him, then?”

Hannibal’s gaze swivels to the phone on his desk once more; perhaps he should have concealed the gift elsewhere. “You’re too perceptive for your own good sometimes.”

“Only when it comes to matters of the heart, I’m afraid,” Anthony replies cheerfully.

Hannibal frowns, contemplating on that for a moment. Is this a matter of the heart? Perhaps Anthony would know what to make of these conflicting emotions inside him. But to ask something of this sort to someone like Anthony would be revealing too much. A weakness that can be used against him.

“So, three meetings, and nothing else in the evening?” he prompts instead.

Anthony smirks at the change of subject, though he does respond in the affirmative. “I’ll drop the schedule in your calendar today since you’re okay with it.” He retrieves the tablet from Hannibal. “Tell Will to call me for coffee whenever he swings by next time, that’s what we promised after all,” he says as he leaves Hannibal’s office.

Hannibal watches Anthony’s retreating back, somewhat amused. An unexpected result of the collision between his private and work life, through no encouragement of his own. Anthony may have assumed too much by extending an offer of friendship to Will. 

Or maybe he has seen too much; seen what Hannibal is currently grappling with. And that is his increasing attachment to the boy.

Hannibal sighs and swivels his chair to take in the view of the city below him. It’s one of the things he likes about the penthouse office, despite its exorbitant cost. It provides him a wide view of the promenade and the river that flows into the Chesapeake Bay. The sight of it always manages to calm him in between his hectic schedule.

Now, it provides him little comfort as his thoughts inevitably turn to Will again.

It shouldn’t surprise him that his indecision brought him to Will’s doorstep before long.

He can’t say _why_ it has brought him here, but he suspects it has something to do with the feeling growing inside him, his thoughts stuck on Anthony’s words.

_“Matters of the heart.”_ Hannibal scoffs.

Even now, hours after his first pondering of the situation, he still can’t make out just what the emotion is. All he knows is that the longer it festers, the more distracted he becomes.

So he supposes the answer to that “why” is this: He doesn’t like the arising emotions and the restlessness that results from them. Even his typical “midnight strolls” have lost their usual appeal when he’d tried to purge the feelings through the activity last night. That’s when he knew that things are in dire straits.

“You okay, boss?”

Randall’s voice breaks through his musings, his eyes keen on Hannibal’s as they stare at each other through the rearview mirror.

Hannibal gives him a placid smile. “Perfect. Will you wait for me for a moment? I won’t be long.”

“Of course,” Randall says with a nod.

For the second time in his life, he steels himself for something he can’t quite prepare for. He gets out of the car and rings the doorbell to Will’s apartment, smiling when he hears Beverly’s voice through the intercom.

“Miss Katz,” he greets her, smiling though she can’t see him. “I’m here to see Will.”

“Oh hey, Hannibal,” she replies cheerfully. “Yeah, sure, come on up, I think he’s probably napping. I’ll buzz you in.”

“Much appreciated.”

Beverly greets him again at the door when she lets him in. “Looking snappy as ever, Mr. Fancy Pants.”

He smiles at the nickname. “To be fair to my tailor, the whole ensemble should be called fancy.”

Beverly laughs. “Touché. Well, you know where his room is.”

“Of course. Thank you, once again, Miss Katz.”

“Please, call me Beverly. Or Bev, if you so please.”

He inclines his head before he takes off to Will’s room, rapping his knuckles gently against the door a few times until he hears Will’s groggy voice telling him to come in. When he enters Will’s room, it’s to the sight of Will blinking blearily at him, looking bewildered at his presence.

“Hannibal?” Will leans on his elbows to peer at him. “What are you doing here?”

“Were you asleep?”

“Yeah, I had a nap after I met with my supervisor… but what are you doing here?”

Hannibal chuckles. “Not so easily distracted then.” He sits at the edge of the mattress, his eyes sweeping over Will’s lithe form as he sits up straighter. Despite his disheveled appearance, it doesn’t look as if Will is suffering from any sickness, so perhaps that wasn’t the reason for Will’s silence. “You look well.”

Will sighs. “Yeah, just tired, it was a long two days. Seriously, why are you here?”

“You didn’t call me.”

“Oh.” Will’s lips purse, guilt flickering across his face. “Uh, sorry. I got distracted and forgot to charge my phone. Didn’t bring my charger with me, like an idiot.”

Hannibal raises his eyebrow. That sounds as if Will has been elsewhere for the past few days. “For the whole weekend?”

“Yes,” Will replies waspishly. “Sorry, but I did mean to—”

“But you didn’t.”

Will huffs loudly, looking exasperated. “Is that why you came down here? To ask me why I didn’t call you?”

Now that he’s seen Will, the realization that he’d missed the boy hits him without notice. It’s unnerving that this is the moment that his emotions want to make themselves known. An inopportune moment for such things, at any rate, since Will doesn’t look pleased at Hannibal’s appearance. Admitting it would be out of the question; a concession like that would put him at risk, should Will find it in himself to use it against him.

Instead of answering, Hannibal slides the boxed phone in Will’s direction.

Will’s expression goes from annoyed to confusion and then to derision, his face shuttering closed in the next moment. “Oh, I see.”

Not the reaction Hannibal is hoping for. “It looks like I’ve made a misstep in your eyes,” he says coolly. “Or perhaps you’re tired of my company after all, judging by your silence over the weekend.”

Will blinks at him silently for ten seconds, looking stunned. His face crumples slightly, and Hannibal begins to regret his harsh words. 

“I didn’t…” Will scoffs. “I didn’t call you because I was busy with Beverly over the weekend. I didn’t purposely ignore you, I told you I forgot to charge my phone.”

Perhaps the words were intended to soothe him, but Hannibal bristles at them instead.

To think that he had spent the weekend expecting – worse than that, _hoping_ – for Will to call so that they may spend some time together as they had before, only to find that Will had neglected to contact him and spend the time with someone else instead.

The thought of Will happily spending his time with Beverly wouldn’t have bothered Hannibal normally, but now… Now that he knows that he has been shirked in favor of Will's roommate, a flare of jealousy ignites inside him. Perhaps it’s irrational to feel so, and he knows it is, but there’s little he can do to stop it now other than removing himself from the situation.

Rising stiffly to a stand, Hannibal smooths over the jacket of his suit, trying to control his emotions, and failing at it. “Perhaps next time, you’d give me the courtesy of a call, or at the very least a message to let me know if you prefer the company of someone else—”

“Oh my God,” Will bursts out, face reddening and brows drawing together in outrage, “I was busy because Beverly’s parents got into an accident and I drove her down to see them! She was sick and wasn’t in any condition to drive, so we went out of town for a few days. As soon as I got back, I had to meet with my supervisor to go over my thesis and only just got back an hour ago.”

Hannibal stops in his tracks, at a loss for word for once.

Clearly, he had seriously misjudged the situation. _Yet again,_ his subconscious adds. A clear reprimand if there ever was one.

He clears his throat, feeling strangely uncomfortable. “Will, I apologize—”

“Yeah, well, I know you said you’d be using your apologies sparingly, but it seems to me you keep on doing it anyway,” Will snaps. “I’m sorry I didn’t call, but I don’t appreciate being hounded for it because you felt as if you’re entitled to every hour of my day.”

Hannibal winces. “That was never my intention—”

“You know what,” Will says, sighing and deflating. “I don’t need this right now. I’m still grouchy from the interrupted sleep and if I keep on talking, I’m just going to offend you. Sorry, but…. Can you… can you please leave? Can we talk later, please?”

Hannibal would have preferred ire than the disappointed sag of Will’s shoulders – it feels too much, as if he’d been found wanting. He’s not sure how to put it into words, doesn’t think he can say anything to make it right at the moment.

“My apologies, Will, for being thoughtless. I’ll take my leave.”

With that, he turns to leave, giving a worried Beverly a cursory nod before he makes his way out of the apartment.

Randall looks surprised at Hannibal’s reappearance. “That was quick.”

Hannibal nods, avoiding Randall’s gaze. “I think my business here is done.”

“Should I take you home, then?”

Though it’s still early in the evening and it was still technically within his work hours, Hannibal’s only reply is a curt “yes”.

“Okay.” Randall turns to his task, then, staying mercifully silent and similarly avoiding Hannibal’s gaze. It looks like he has sensed Hannibal’s dour mood after that particularly disastrous meeting with Will.

Hannibal stews over his emotions throughout the whole ride, displeased at the turmoil roiling in his gut. Rarely has he felt something so turbulent at the thought that someone had been disappointed in him, had found him lacking. Having had a relatively unattached life for the past two decades, he doesn’t appreciate the return of such inelegant and human feelings – something that he’d vowed to put aside in favor of appreciating life to its fullest instead of focusing on the ugliness in the world.

What's more worrying is the fact that his infatuation with the boy had clearly been noted by Anthony, and possibly even by Randall. Though he had only known Will for a few weeks, there’s no denying that he’d enjoyed the boy’s company more than he’d enjoyed anyone else’s during the interval. It’s a rare thing for him to indulge in this kind of companionship; most of his sexual partners were convenient and mutually beneficial encounters. Though he'd enjoyed such encounters, none of them had been as satisfying as the budding relationship he had with Will.

He has never denied himself before this, but he finds it hard to accept that this _was_ a relationship in light of all this mess. A dysfunctional relationship, perhaps, considering the inherent power imbalance between the two of them, but a relationship nonetheless.

Worse still when he takes into account that this infatuation could displace his pleasure at what he does after midnight; has already displaced it when he couldn’t even enjoy his pastime a few nights ago, his thoughts full of Will and why Will had neglected him instead.

A mistake.

All this was clearly a mistake and something that needs to be rectified, lest these feelings overtake him and what he had been working towards in the last twenty years.

He has to put a stop to this.

Will stares at the phone on his bed.

Once Hannibal had left his apartment, Will had promptly gone back to sleep which lasted through the next morning. He’d felt clear-headed then, and had hesitantly unwrapped Hannibal’s parting gift, sighing when he saw the phone nestled inside the box. He knew Hannibal would have done something like this – buying him a phone even after Will had insisted against it – and had expected as much. But the timing of the gift itself felt… ill-conceived considering the heated words they’d exchanged.

Will closes the box then, leaving the phone inside it before he sets it aside on his bedside table. His own phone – now charged with eighty percent of battery left – taunts him with its silence.

It’s been three days since he’d last seen Hannibal in person and two days since he’d last heard from Hannibal.

The silence is telling, and it put Will in a foul mood well into the evening. He’s been trying to not let Hannibal’s complete disengagement get to him for the past three days, but he’s beginning to grow anxious from his crowding thoughts.

Beverly’s quick to call him out on his mood when Will finally emerges from his room later that day. “Oh hey, look what the cat dragged in. Jeez, why the long face?”

Will sighs through his nose and slumps onto the sofa next to Beverly, who’s flicking through some Netflix selection listlessly. “What are you watching?”

“Dunno,” she answers distractedly. “I just want something dumb that doesn’t require me to use my brain for a while.”

“Bad day?”

Beverly snorts. “Sort of. Got chewed out by Peterson over my thesis argument. You’d think he’d have highlighted his ‘concerns’ a few months back when I went over it with him, but nooo, he had to have a last-minute say over one of my central hypotheses.”

“Jackass.”

“Yep,” Beverly agrees, her mouth popping with the sound. She sighs and turns to Will. “I don’t even know what to watch, do you have anything you prefer? Or are you just gonna mope here with me?”

Will sighs again.

“Moping it is.” Beverly squints. “You still haven’t heard from him, huh?”

“Nope.”

“Relax, it’s been, what, three days? He’s probably just busy. He is the CEO of some hotshot company.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t mind except for the fact that we kind of had a small fight before he left.”

“Yeah, or so I heard.” Beverly sighs in commiseration. “Sorry, couldn’t help but overhear your dulcet tone shouting at Mr. Fancy Pants. You feel like talking about it?”

“Nah, I feel like I’ve been complaining about him to you too much now.”

Beverly rolls her eyes. “If I was bothered by all the complaining, I wouldn’t have asked.”

“It’s just… I feel stupid after it happened. Like I know that we were both a little bit grumpy and I kind of lashed out at him because I had a bad day. I was just annoyed that he came out of nowhere to tell me off for not calling him on Saturday.”

Beverly raises an eyebrow at that. “Oh, yikes. He did that? Okay, that’s… kind of not cool of him, to be honest.”

“Right?” Slightly relieved at her agreement, at least in this, Will slumps into the sofa. “I thought I was being dramatic, but I think he was even more so when he practically questioned me where I was the whole weekend. What, did he think I was having the time of my life without him or something? I mean, no offense to you—”

Beverly waves his concern off with a wave of her hand. “Yeah, none taken. So he stormed out after he found out you were with me the whole weekend?”

“Yeah, I guess that was a part of it, which is… ridiculous.”

“He’s probably just jealous of me,” she says wisely after a moment of thought.

Will snorts. “What, why? He knows you’re my friend and my roommate.”

“Does he really?”

“I mean, I don’t talk about you a lot—”

“Thanks, Graham.”

Will rolls his eyes. “Why would I talk about you with him?”

“To tell him how much of an awesome friend I am and to avoid any misunderstandings that could lead him to feel jealous that you didn’t call him and spent the whole weekend with me instead?”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously!” Beverly chuckles. “Do you not see that?”

“But… why?” Will asks, exasperated. “I would’ve called him sooner or later if Roberts didn’t keep asking me to make edits to my thesis for the past two freaking days.”

“Oof, you’re still working on your slides, huh?”

“Yeah, that’s another worry for another day. At least I finally got it done, damn Roberts and his perfectionism.”

Beverly smiles benignly at him. “Oh, Will. You have no idea how men like Mr. Fancy Pants can get, do you?”

“Oh, like you’re so knowledgeable about it.”

“Look, between the two of us, who has more experience with relationships, and who knows what the hoity-toity high society upperclassmen expect out of people?”

“You do,” Will answers begrudgingly.

“Yeah, damn right. So men like Hannibal? Their ego is like _way_ over the stratosphere. You’ve read of that ‘profession with the highest proportion of psychopaths’ thing, right?”

“…yeah, with CEOs on top of that list.”

“Yeah, and I’m not saying he’s definitely one because that would be a gross generalization, but I’m just saying those kinds of people tend to skew towards the extreme end of that scale, so obviously he’s got some of those inherent traits.”

“I didn’t ask for a class, thanks.”

Beverly punches him playfully, though Will yelps all the same.

“Ow! What the hell, Bev!”

“Oh, sorry, I forgot you bruise like a peach. And that I take boxing classes,” she says with an unrepentant grin.

“No wonder Grace stayed two feet away from you all the time.”

“Ugh, come on Will, work with me here.”

“I’m trying! What does his ego and hypothetical psychopathic tendencies have anything to do with this?”

“Okay, think about it. Someone like Hannibal would have people falling over him left and right, especially considering his good looks and those assets.”

“Bev!”

“I meant his _wealth,_ pay attention!”

That does get a laugh out of Will. “Okay, fine, continue.”

“Thank you. Anyway, someone like him could have anyone he wants but he settles for someone like you—”

“Wow, thanks, thanks a lot.”

“I’m just saying that he sought you out even after your hissy fits before this means that he likes you on some level, right? But he’s been a bachelor for like three decades or so if that article can be believed, so he probably doesn’t have, I dunno, lingering attachments or long-lasting relationships with others, right?”

“I guess…”

“So for all his charms and unfairly hot body – what, don’t look at me like that, I do have eyes – he probably flits through relationships the way he flicks through his probably humongous wardrobe.”

“That’s… probably a fair assessment.”

“Right, so look at it from his perspective. Here he is, some hotshot CEO coming down to find you after you didn’t call him when you promised to, and then he found out that you spent the weekend with me instead of with him, the so-called Baltimore’s Top Bachelor or whatever.”

“…so you’re saying I bruised his ego?”

“You think?”

“I did tell him that it was because your parents got into an accident,” Will argues.

“Oh, bet he didn’t like that. Now he’s feeling _guilty_ because he made some assumptions.”

“So now you’re saying that I made an ass out of him.”

“Pretty much both, yup.”

_“Fuck._ ” Will groans, rubbing a palm across his face. “I hate it when you’re right.”

“It happens so often that you’d think you’d be used to it by now.” Beverly evades a carefully aimed pillow towards her with a laugh. “Come on, cut him some slack. He means well, probably. He’s just so awkward about it, probably because he’s not used to _feelings._ I bet he’s probably kicking himself after all that, but his pride won’t let him call you back.”

“Why is this so complicated,” Will complains. “See, this is why I should’ve just avoided relationships altogether. This is all your fault.”

Beverly scoffs. “Excuse me?”

“You were the one who was all ‘oh, but do you want this Will? Why don’t you let yourself have nice things for once’?”

“Okay, first of all, I do not sound like that, asshole,” Beverly says, laughing as she throws a pillow back at Will. “Second of all, you enjoyed the nice things, don’t lie.”

“Well, yeah, but now this is becoming messy and I don’t like it.”

“William Shannon Graham.”

Will winces at the mention of his full name. “Oh God, here it comes…”

“I love you, but you can be such a dumbass sometimes,” Beverly says, glaring at him. “Seriously, get your head out of your ass and start working on the things you want. You think things and opportunities are going to fall onto your lap and you’re not going to have to work to maintain them? You’re not the only one feeling awkward over this whole mess you know, I bet Hannibal’s going through the same emotional mess because you two are both dumbasses who probably deserve each other. Relationships take _work_ and I agree that you should avoid one if all you’re going to do is avoid connections left and right instead of trying to work it out like an adult.”

Will, for his part, is a little stunned at Beverly’s harsh words, her face reddening with her tirade. “Uh…”

“Look, I know this is not what you like to hear, but you’re going to have to get a reality check sooner or later. If you continue this… this thing you do, this dance routine of yours of dropping every relationship that comes your way at the first sign of trouble, then you’re going to end up alone with like, I don’t know, seven dogs or something, like a weird version of Snow White.”

“Okay, hold on a sec, what if I do want to be a bachelor with seven dogs?” Will argues.

“Oh my God,” Beverly says, rolling her eyes heavenward and throwing her hands up in the air in surrender. “You know what, I give up. Do what you want, but don’t tell me I didn’t tell you so when you end up with dog hair in your nostrils and your mouth because they sleep with you on the bed every night.”

Will laughs at that, though he soon deflates with a sigh. “I don’t know what to do. It’s not like I have the best experience with prior relationships, as you rightly pointed out.”

“Wow did pigs just fly?” Beverly laughs. “You’re admitting that I’m right?”

“Fine, you’re right, okay? I just don’t know how to deal with this. He won’t answer my call, what else am I supposed to do?”

“Well… if he won’t come to you, then you can go to him, right?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eh, I'm not too happy with this tbh. sorry.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof , sorry for the breakdown in the last chapter notes, brain was having a not-so-good-brrrr day and decided to think that everything is garbage. As they do. *prods brain* Come on, little dude, work with me here.
> 
> Thank you for all the kind words, though, I really do appreciate it T_T

The soft sonata playing in the background while Hannibal works on Andrew Caldwell’s lungs does nothing to soothe the chaotic cacophony of turmoil inside him. Still, Hannibal works on, forcing himself to get into the rhythm of kneading the lungs into shape, the movement automatic by now.

As much as he has tried to exorcise his feelings by butchering Caldwell earlier, the satisfaction that he usually gets from the action is tempered by the thoughts still percolating in his head. The matter was not helped by Anthony’s insinuation when Hannibal had talked to him earlier this morning.

Hannibal had called Anthony to let his assistant know that he would be taking the day off, which Anthony took in stride even if it meant some work for him to reschedule Hannibal’s meetings for the next week.

“You’re alright?” Anthony had asked, sounding worried. “It’s not like you to suddenly take a day off.”

“I’m perfectly fine,” Hannibal replied, keeping his tone even.

“Hmm, you do sound alright.” Anthony’s voice sounds considering before it lands on teasing. “So you’re taking a Friday off to play hooky with a certain young man, are you?”

“Goodbye, Anthony.”

Anthony is extremely lucky that Hannibal finds him almost indispensable. Luckier still that Hannibal likes him enough to keep him on board for the foreseeable future.

In any case, Hannibal knows that the lungs are a lost cause when the organ begins to lose its texture under Hannibal’s insistent ministrations. He sighs and stares at the misshapen organ. Far be it for him to waste such a kill. Perhaps he could repurpose it and cook it alongside Caldwell’s liver and heart to make full use of the pluck, so to speak.

Instead of trying to save the lungs, Hannibal washes his hands and retrieves a whiskey bottle and pours himself a glass before settling on the couch in the corner of the kitchen. He stares balefully at the lungs on the counter, wondering how best to salvage the organ while he goes through the recipes already embedded in his mind.

Killing Andrew Caldwell had been more impulsive than usual, considering he had already butchered another pig earlier this week before meeting Will. Typically, he would space out his kills, using most of the organs until it’s time to replenish his storage or when the mood strikes him. The bodies would be disposed of discretely somewhere, and Hannibal would take care to make his kills look sloppy in its cut though of course, he would never leave any other usable evidence behind. In that way, should anyone ever stumble on the bodies, the police would draw their conclusions that it’s an organ harvester instead of someone cannibalizing their kills.

With how prominent he is in the public’s eye, Hannibal had taken care to ensure that none of his kills could be connected to him. He would normally bid his time before deciding to kill someone, no matter how tenuous their link is to each other. Even though he would love to display the bodies in the fashion of Il Mostro’s kills as he did back in Florence, it would be too reckless here in Baltimore. He needs to lay low, to give off the very appearance of a law-abiding man.

And so his pleasure from his kills had mainly been derived from being able to savor their meat to its fullest.

Now, it seems he can’t even enjoy that.

Hannibal sighs through his nose and takes a long drink from his glass, the whiskey burning his throat.

His pondering is interrupted by a ring of his doorbell, the jarring sound intruding on the sonata and his increasingly fatigued state of mind. He spares another glare at the offending lungs before he leaves the glass of whiskey next to it, leaving the organ on the counter as he makes his way to the door.

His brows raise involuntarily when he sees Will on his doorstep, though he schools his expression back to nonchalance just as fast.

Will, always so observant, must have seen it nonetheless. He looks unaccountably embarrassed when he clocks in Hannibal’s appearance – Hannibal is, for once, dressed down in a light sweater and slacks with an apron wrapped around his waist.

“Uh,” Will mutters, eyes fixed on Hannibal’s chin, “looks like I came at a bad time?”

Hannibal is tempted to answer in the affirmative if only to allow himself the time to recover from the surprise of seeing Will there. He controls his impulse, however, and smiles at Will. It feels strained, at best, and this, too, probably shows. “Not necessarily, no.”

“I can come back another time,” Will says, looking immensely uncomfortable. “Just… you weren’t answering your phone so I called Anthony and he told me you were at home today, so I thought…”

_ Ah, Anthony. _ Even Hannibal’s fondness of him can’t override his instincts to bristle at his assistant’s presumptuousness.

“Okay, sorry, clearly I’m interrupting something,” Will continues when Hannibal only looks at him in silence, still too frazzled by Will’s sudden appearance to respond. He thrusts out a paper bag at Hannibal with a frown. “Here. I thought I should return this. I should’ve gotten a clue when you didn’t answer your phone.”

Hannibal takes the bag wordlessly, though he frowns when he sees the familiar boxes inside. The realization that Will is returning his gifts snaps Hannibal out of his uncharacteristic stupor.

“Would you like to come in and talk?” Hannibal asks, feeling almost impulsive. It’s a recurring feeling where Will is concerned. All he knows is that he can’t let Will leave, not in this manner. “Join me for lunch, or at least a drink before you go?”

Will’s brows scrunch up with confusion at the segue, and his eyes snap to meet Hannibal’s. Whatever he sees in Hannibal’s expression is enough for him, at least at the moment. He shrugs and nods wordlessly, and Hannibal lets him in. He places the paper bag on a table in the corner of the foyer before he turns his attention to Will, beckoning him to follow.

Hannibal leads him into the kitchen, pouring a glass of whiskey for them each even if it’s still early in the morning. Will’s keen eyes would probably have noted that the bottle of whiskey and Hannibal’s glass were already out on the counter; the evidence of Hannibal’s frustration manifested in an atypical behavior, at least for him. If the thought crosses Will’s mind, he doesn’t say anything to give any indication of it.

Will sits awkwardly on a chair that’s placed in a corner of the kitchen, the boy eyeing him warily as Hannibal returns to the task that was plaguing him while his mind was busy on Will. And here he is, now, dropped onto him by providence herself.

“What were you cooking?” Will asks haltingly as he takes small sips of his drink, peering curiously to see the ingredients on the kitchen counter.

“I was prepping my meal,” Hannibal replies as he wraps the lungs in a plastic wrap discretely before Will could take notice of the organ, “and was thinking of improvising the recipe later.”

“You’re not improvising if you’re already thinking ahead, are you?” Will asks with a lopsided smile.

Hannibal returns the smile, amused despite his conflicted feelings. “I’m improvising based on the given circumstances which were out of my expectations.”

Will smiles. “Always an answer for everything. So you’re already prepping for dinner when it’s hours before lunchtime. Does that mean lunch is already cooking in the oven or something?”

“As a matter of fact, no,” Hannibal replies as he stows away the lungs in the fridge. With that done, he turns his full attention to Will, the two of them staring at each other as if assessing one another.

“Color me surprised.”

“You’ll be more surprised to learn that my day off today was an improvisation in itself.”

Will looks at him curiously at that. “Oh?”

“I don’t typically take a day off work unless absolutely necessary.”

Will’s face works at that. “Yeah, Anthony told me as much. Insinuated… some things when I called him.”

“Anthony imagines he knows everything that’s going on around him.”

Will smiles at that, though he doesn’t reply further. He looks like he’s at a loss at what to say, and he takes a few more sips of his drink instead as he avoids eye contact.

“Were you under the impression that I was mad at you?” Hannibal asks at length, still scrutinizing Will’s little fidgets, the tell-tale signs that he’s feeling uncomfortable under Hannibal’s watchful gaze.

Will raises an eyebrow at that. “What else was I supposed to think when you interrogated me that day? And when you didn’t answer my call?”

“I thought I was giving you space, especially after I intruded myself where I wasn’t wanted.”

Exasperation colors Will’s expression then, the boy huffing a disbelieving laugh. “I didn’t say I don’t  _ want  _ you to… intrude yourself or whatever. Just… I don’t appreciate you coming down there and assuming things. For what it’s worth, I am sorry that I didn’t get the chance to call you earlier. I promise I wasn’t ignoring you.”

Hannibal nods in acceptance, noting Will’s empty glass. “Would you like another drink?”

Will shakes his head.

“Would you join me in the living room, then?”

Will nods warily, depositing his wine glass in the sink before he follows Hannibal to the living room. They take a seat next to each other in the chairs near the harpsichord, Will’s gaze landing on it fleetingly with interest.

“You play piano?”

“It’s a harpsichord.”

“Huh. Never heard of one before.”

“It’s similar, though playing a piece on the harpsichord would be very different in execution and style compared to a piano. I find that the harpsichord encourages spontaneity, with how the note changes and ends under a skilled touch. Less room for error, but paradoxically I feel more comfortable making mistakes with it.”

“Trust you to go for the rarefied instrument,” Will says with a smile, though it doesn’t sound mocking.

Hannibal takes in Will’s posture instead of answering. The boy looks more relaxed now, though there’s still an uncomfortable set to his shoulder. Still waiting for the strike, it seems. “I apologize again for my… behavior.”

“Thank you, I accept the apology,” Will says slowly, wincing when the words are out of his mouth. “Sorry, that sounds super formal. I just…” He sighs and runs a hand through his curls, looking exasperated once more. “We’ve been going about this backward. Having sex without all these feelings was easier, but now it’s all coming to a head. I guess we fucked it up with the order of things.”

Hannibal nods and lets out a sigh of his own, letting his feelings bleed into his words. “I admit that I was ashamed of what I felt.”

Will blinks, looking nonplussed at the sudden confession. “Why?”

Contemplating on that for a moment, Hannibal leans back in his seat, wondering how much he should divulge to Will. He risks scaring the boy off if he reveals too much of the possessive monster rearing inside him, though he thinks there’s a real danger that Will is already being driven off by it when he recalls that the boy has essentially returned his gifts.

He frowns before admitting, “I am not accustomed to forming attachments.”

Will nods slowly. “I’m kind of beginning to see that.”

Hannibal smiles wryly. “Perhaps you don’t see the full truth of it. My dalliances so far have been fleeting and free of emotional attachment. It was easier to move through life when you’re unattached to such entanglements, and I have savored the freedom that my position in life has afforded to me. Realizing that I may have developed some… feelings for you was something I hadn’t foreseen.”

Will looks stunned at the revelation, though he does scoff. “You don’t have to sound so put out about it. At the end of the day, we’re all humans. Hell, even serial killers act out sooner or later, and their motifs can mostly be traced back by something so ‘banal’ as human connections.”

That draws a genuine smile out of Hannibal. “Are you saying I’m a serial killer, Will, or just comparing me to one?”

“I’m—” Will laughs awkwardly. “Okay, full disclosure; Bev and I were trying to make sense of you and whatever happened between us, and she mentioned something about CEOs being some form of psychopaths, so make of that what you will.”

“Ah, are the two of you relying on an unsubstantiated study? I admit I’m disappointed.”

“I didn’t say I  _ believe  _ it,” Will replies, rolling his eyes. “Like most of it is done based on psychological profiling and a premise that I don’t particularly agree with, and it just sounds like a weak thesis to me, but you have to admit you fit the whole ‘mindfulness’ trait down to a T— okay, wait, I’m going off tangent here—”

Hannibal looks on, amused. “You were talking about me with Miss Katz?”

“I did,” Will admits, his cheeks pinkening though he stares at Hannibal defiantly.

“Why?”

“Because I was trying to make sense of why you reacted the way you did,” Will replies, exasperation beginning to creep into his voice and his face reddening with the admission. “I’m  _ trying  _ to make this work for once, okay. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not used to relationships either, so I’m trying to work with this one because I like you.”

To say that Hannibal is reeling with shock would be an exaggeration, but he is feeling something akin to it at the moment.

Will bites his lips and looks away, embarrassed. “Look, I know I’m just a student with nothing to offer, but for some reason you… I don’t know, you’ve taken a shine to me or something, and are plying me with gifts, and that’s not something I’m used to. It’s a lot to take in, you know?”

“I understand,” Hannibal replies slowly, his mind working rapidly. “You give yourself too little credit, Will.”

“Really? You’re telling me that someone like you who has everything that they could want thinks that a poor student like me has something to offer?” Will scoffs. “I’m not delusional, Hannibal, I know what it would look like to others when someone like you form ‘dalliances’ with someone like me.”

“I do hope you’ll cease with your self-deprecating talks one of these days,” Hannibal says mildly. “I have never cared for society’s opinion of me; let them think what they want when they see us together. What I know is this: You offer me something that no one else can. You see me as I am, as much as you’re willing to see.” 

Though he doubts Will has seen the true extent of Hannibal’s depravity (at least when it comes to the whole cannibalism aspect of it), Will has come closer than most in seeing past the veil that Hannibal has put up. It’s a thrilling prospect, having someone willing to go beyond the veil to seek him out, though it’s also a daunting one. He supposes it’s why he’s been feeling increasingly unmoored as Will lifts the anchor slowly from the seabed, dragging Hannibal along in the current which is not his own making.

He can admit now that he’s a little terrified of not knowing where the current will take him.

Will has fallen silent at Hannibal’s words, and he too looks as if he’s recalibrating his own thoughts, brows scrunching in reflection.

“So you’re looking for… a connection of some sort,” Will says eventually. “Has no one really, uh, ‘seen’ you before this?”

“Not in the sense of what I’m looking for,” Hannibal replies. “And I admit that I’m not the most transparent person.”

Will snorts. “That’s an understatement,” he mutters. “You’re one of the few people who I can’t get a handle on, I’ll give you that.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

Will sighs and throws a shifty glance at him. “Look, trust me when I say that I see more of people than they’d like sometimes. It’s one of the reasons my relationships pretty much sucked. I see too much, and it scares people off even if they won’t admit it.”

“Has this happened often?”

“Well, I only have two relationships to speak of so far,” Will drawls dryly. “Alana was nice, up until the point she realized that she couldn’t fix me. Don’t ask me what she was trying to fix, I’m still trying to figure it out. And Matthew was…” He sighs. “He was my rebound, which means the whole thing was pretty much doomed from the start. He expected more from me, and I couldn’t hold up to that expectation.”

“I can see why relationships put you off.”

“Yeah, well. This is not going any better, with how it started.”

“And yet you’re still trying to make it work.”

Will glares at him. “Bev tried to talk some sense into me, and I’m trying. I’m beginning to regret that decision now.”

A smile blooms on Hannibal’s face then, unbidden. “I must thank Miss Katz for her wisdom. And of course, I should thank you for making the journey here to try and make it work. Although I have to ask…”

“Oh, here it comes,” Will sighs. “Okay, hit me.”

“Why are you returning your gifts?”

“Honestly? I thought you were getting sick of me.”

“Will…”

“You didn’t answer your phone!”

“You didn’t call me when you said you would.”

Will groans. “Look, we’re going to go around in circles all day if we keep this up. I’m just saying, I would rather not have those reminders with me if you wanted to break it off with me.”

Hannibal frowns. “Does that mean you came here with the expectation that I would ‘break it off’ with you?”

“It means I’m giving you the option to,” Will says, his fingers drumming nervously against his thigh. “I don’t know where I stand with you, and it’s kind of driving me mad.”

Hannibal looks at Will, feeling indescribably fond of the boy. Truly, he doesn’t know his own charm. “Will, they’re gifts, which means they are yours no matter where you stand with me.”

“Like I said, I don’t need the reminder,” Will replies stubbornly. “I thought you’d be an advocate of a clean break-up.”

“You have a fair point,” Hannibal concedes. “Keeping memorabilia from past relationships can be unhealthy. Though I’d very much like to see you again.”

Will softens at that, the fingers stilling on his thigh. He averts his gaze before speaking, looking uncomfortable. “I’d like to see you again, too.”

“Then I suppose the matter is settled.”

“Okay, except not really,” Will says, looking conflicted. “I need to know first… I get that you like giving people nice things or whatever, but I don’t like the feeling your gifts gave me.”

“Such as?”

“When you give me those things, it’s like… I know you said you’re not expecting anything from them, but even you can see that’s not true now, right?”

“I suppose that’s true, but the two are not mutually exclusive. Even if you choose not to reciprocate with anything, I would still like to give them to you.”

Will’s face colors at that, and Hannibal peers at him curiously. The boy looks as if he’s trying to work out the courage to voice out his next concern as he shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

“Okay, I’m just gonna say it because there’s no other way to ask this, but…”

Will stifles his groan by putting his face in his hands, leaning forward to lean his elbows on his knees. The next few words come out muffled by his hands, and Hannibal looks on in amusement at the way Will’s blush travels through his face to the tip of his ears.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that,” Hannibal says.

“I said are you my sugar daddy?” Will asks in a rush, the words muffled still and punctuated with a groan.

For the first time in a long while, Hannibal finds himself laughing at the display, the laugh turning into a chuckle at the obvious embarrassment on Will’s face when the boy turns to glare at him.

“God this is fucking embarrassing,” Will mutters. “But are you?”

“Do you need to have a label for what I am to you?” Hannibal asks, grinning.

“I mean, I don’t, but… that’s the only way to interpret all… this,” Will says, gesturing to the room at large. “And all your weird gifts. Who else would do that kind of thing?”

“Suppose that I am, then,” Hannibal replies, more amused than anything else. His mood is improving by leaps and bounds with Will’s visit, and he wishes he could kiss away the embarrassment on the boy’s face. He would much prefer to see Will reddening with pleasure.

“That doesn’t sound weird to you?” Will asks, face etched in disbelief.

“Why would it?”

“Because this is fucking weird to me!”

“Will, there’s no need to curse.”

“Oh, is that where you draw the line?”

“When I don’t think it’s warranted, yes.” Hannibal considers Will then. “Would it be so bad to have someone giving you things?”

“Like I said, the expectations—”

“I would say that every relationship requires expectations in some form,” Hannibal points out. “Wouldn’t you? Isn’t that why you’re trying to work this out with me?”

Will sighs. “Okay, yes. But… these things just don’t happen to me, it’s weird. You’re probably used to it in your circles, but I don’t know if I fit into any of those labels.”

“Who exactly is forcing labels onto you?”

“…people around you and me?”

“And why should their opinion of you, me, or of us matter?”

Will frowns. “You’re telling me you don’t care if your reputation tanks when it comes out you’re, uh, dating someone like me?”

“I told you I’ve never cared for what society thinks of me. I didn’t get to where I am by kowtowing to such things.”

Will takes that in, looking contemplative. His fingers begin to drum against his lap once again, and he seems to come to a conclusion several seconds later. “Okay, fine. Let’s… let’s try this out.”

Hannibal smiles. “Name me your terms, then. I’m sure you would appreciate some boundaries if you’re not comfortable with the idea of me being your sugar daddy.”

The words send Will into another blushing fit, and he startles into a laugh. “God, hearing you say it makes it sound even more absurd.”

“Will.”

“Okay, uh, first of all, I’m pretty busy up until graduation because I need to finalize my thesis,” Will says, looking nervous. “It’s mostly done, I just need to finetune everything so my supervisor greenlights it, and when that’s done, I’m, uh, mostly free. I don’t have anything on Fridays usually, but sometimes I go down to a local shelter if they need volunteers on weekdays so um, maybe you can call me first if you feel like meeting?”

“That sounds perfectly doable,” Hannibal agrees.

Looking encouraged, Will sits up straighter in his seat. “Okay, good. Uh, do you have any terms for me?”

Hannibal raises an eyebrow at that. “This is sounding more like a hostage negotiation than a bid for a relationship.”

Will laughs. “Humor me. It’s easier to manage expectations when you have all the cards on the table, right?”

“I can’t fault you for that logic. Very well. My only condition is that you accept anything I give you. If you do not want them as a reminder or for whatever reason, you’re not required to return them. You can repurpose the items or give them away, but they’re yours until then.”

Will blinks. “…that’s it?”

“Maybe for you to answer your phone if it’s feasible at the time,” Hannibal amends with a smile. “I’d like to talk to you on the days we may not be able to see each other.”

“Okay, that’s fine with me,” Will says, looking relieved. “I’ll make sure my phone is charged.”

“Thank you. You still look like you have something on your mind.”

“Okay, bear with me, but… we can’t have sex until my graduation.”

That makes Hannibal pause. “…Pardon?”

Will huffs, looking amused now. “I did say we got everything kind of backward, didn’t I? I think it makes sense for us to try and take it slow… um, see if we’re compatible in more ways than one. I mean, sex with you is great”—here, Will’s face reddens once more—“but it kind of gets in the way of the whole… dating process sometimes.”

“Do you mean to say that the sex with me has rendered you mindless with lust?”

“Okay, now you’re just being a dick.”

Hannibal chuckles. “My apologies. You do drive a hard bargain.”

“And  _ you  _ probably have some other gifts already lined up, so I’m trying to see if you’re just all talk with your ‘no expectations’ thing.”

“As always, you make a valid point.” Hannibal extends a hand out and grasps Will’s hand in his when the boy offers it, looking suspicious. “You have a deal.”

“…why do I have a feeling that I just agreed to a deal with the devil?” Will chuckles.

“To the devil his due,” Hannibal says, grinning wickedly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like my wonderful beta Kai said: RIP, Hannibal, good luck with those blue balls.  
>  ~~I'm kidding, I won't torture him... at least not too much. I'm pretty sure he'll enjoy that torture tho.~~


	7. Chapter 7

The crowd outside of their private dining area is buzzing with excitement, which is unsurprising considering it’s Friday night. It feels like half of DC is taking advantage of the pleasant weather by going out and about to celebrate the coming of the weekend or the end of the workweek.

For Will and Beverly, the celebration is twofold: it’s the end of a hectic week and a celebration for their successful job interviews.

Beverly was accepted into the FBI after much hand-wringing on her part. (Though she’d denied being nervous, it was plain from the way she’d lost sleep over the last few days.) In the next few months, Beverly will join the rest of her class at the FBI Training Academy. He’d expected no less of her, knowing her track records are as spotless as his own in terms of their academic achievements.

He has heard nothing from the FBI after his own interview, though he’s not too worried about it as he once would have been, even if he’s a little envious of Beverly. After several interviews, Will has received several job offers which eased his worry somewhat over his situation in the coming month. In the end, he’d chosen the job offer as a research assistant for an advisor he’d admired in the faculty, knowing that the job would offer more opportunities later in his career.

Tonight, Hannibal had taken Will and Beverly to a restaurant in DC, a posh-looking establishment that houses two floors’ worth of patrons. Judging by the clientele and the menu (where none of the meals have any price listed next to them), it’s obvious that tonight’s dinner would be a fine-dining experience.

Even Beverly looks somewhat awed by the place, his friend looking resplendent and elegant in a deep maroon dress. It’s the first time he’s seen her dressed up to the nines. But then again, she could probably say the same for him.

Will had put on another new suit tonight, this one in a beautiful, deeper shade of brown. The suit had come in a box which was delivered to his apartment bearing a simple note that required no signature. He doesn’t even need the note to know it was from Hannibal; who else would gift him a suit? The way Hannibal had looked at him when he came to pick Will and Beverly up from their apartment earlier was as good confirmation as any, Hannibal’s eyes raking over him approvingly. Clearly, the suit is very much for Hannibal’s benefit as it is for Will’s.

At present, Hannibal is seated at the head of the table while Beverly and Will sit on either side of him. Beverly is taking in their surroundings while Will is trying to ignore the way Hannibal’s leg is pressed against his under the table.

“Wow, this is even swankier than I imagined,” Beverly says as her gaze roams across the room. She raises her glass for a toast, grinning at Hannibal. “Thank you for inviting us. I won’t ask about the cost; I’m sure you’ll be absorbing it for us.”

“Bev.” Will suppresses a sigh. Trust Beverly to go straight to the point.

“What?” Beverly laughs. “You can do the whole ‘oh you shouldn’t have/no I assure you I will' dance with him later, but I’m going to let my conscience take a backseat and enjoy everything tonight.”

Hannibal chuckles and responds to Beverly’s toast with one of his own, eyes sparkling with mirth. “I salute your forethought in letting me know earlier. Have you decided on what you’d like to have?”

“Yeah, I think the filet mignon sounds delicious.”

“Excellent.” Hannibal flags down a waiter who’s hovering at the doorway to their private dining area expectantly.

Will frowns. “You’re not going to ask me what I want?”

Hannibal smiles at him, quick and sure. “Dear boy, you should know better by now. I’ve already ordered on your behalf.”

Despite the dim lighting in the restaurant, he’s pretty sure Beverly and Hannibal could see his blush and mortified expression. _“Hannibal._ ”

Hannibal merely smiles before he orders for the three of them, the waiter giving no indication that he’s heard anything untoward.

Once the waiter has disappeared with their order, Beverly turns to Will with a suggestive smile. “So you’ve been living the high life, huh?”

He doesn’t give Beverly the satisfaction of making him blush again. “Bev, you and I were just eating ramen for lunch a couple of hours ago.”

She laughs when Hannibal turns to Will with a quelling look. “Is this one of the instant varieties?”

Ugh, maybe he shouldn’t have admitted that out loud. He shrugs, aiming for a nonchalant tone. “Relax, they’re a staple in a student’s diet.”

Hannibal’s eyes narrow shrewdly before he turns to Beverly. “How many packets does he go through in a week?”

Will sputters in indignation even as Beverly answers, “Honestly? Like five of them, which is pretty healthy by a student’s standards.”

Hannibal frowns, unimpressed. “And this is only by your estimation?”

“Eh, he may have eaten more than that, but I feed him like a mother hen whenever I can. He’s pretty easy to feed.”

“Excuse me, I’m _right here._ ”

Beverly, as usual, ignores him in favor of more teasing. “Maybe you can send us a few cuts of Wagyu beef or something. That way you’ll know for sure he’s eating well.”

“Don’t.” Will laughs, seeing the calculating look in Hannibal’s eyes. “Seriously, I’ll just end up burning your precious beef and then I’ll never hear the end of _that._ ”

Hannibal hums. “I suppose I would have to cook for you every day, then.”

Will buries his face in his hands, regretting ever agreeing to this dinner. “God, give me strength.”

“I always tell him to chill,” Beverly says to Hannibal, amusement clear in her tone. “Do you have this kind of problem with your other sugar babies?”

“I wouldn’t know, Will is my first and will be my last.”

Beverly crows with laughter at that, and Will just glares at her as the first course of their dinner arrives. “You’re something else. I can see why Will likes you.”

Hannibal’s smile broadens. “Coming from someone who knows Will intimately, I’m thrilled with your assessment.”

“Is this the part where you give my hand away to him for marriage?” Will asks Beverly, though his sarcasm is lost on Beverly.

She tilts her head as if in consideration, grinning at Hannibal. “Depends, what kind of dowry would he fetch?”

“I hate both of you.” Will digs into the meal before everyone else in a fit of childish revenge.

As always, Hannibal didn’t hold back on ordering for them. Judging by the spread of starters alone, he has spared no expenses for tonight. The salmon _hors d’oeuvres_ Will pops unthinkingly into his mouth is delicious, and Will savors the taste before he moves on to the scallops and the oysters.

Hannibal watches him, the corner of his mouth tilted in an amused slant before he gestures to Beverly to dig in. The two of them continue their conversation as they eat while Will listens.

It’s sort of weird to see both of them in the same room together; a merging of two very different parts of his world. He’s beginning to accept that Hannibal is going to be a formative part of it, since the man is proving difficult to shake off, unlike his previous lovers. It’s not like Will is trying to drive people away, but most of the time he succeeded without even trying. It’s a novelty to have someone willing to make their relationship work.

Beverly is in her element tonight. She looks elated at the chance to needle Will—always a favorite pastime—while also using the opportunity to interrogate Hannibal on the finer details Will obviously won’t share with her.

She begins with, “So what is it like living at the top of the food chain?”

“What makes you think that I’m at the top?” Hannibal’s smile is like a shark baring its teeth.

“Well, if you’re not at the very top or at least at the highest level, I’ll eat my shoe,” Beverly deadpans.

Hannibal chuckles. “Truth be told, it’s not something I aspired to be, so it’s nothing to shout about. And I’m hardly at the top of the food chain. Perhaps I belong in the upper-middle portion of it.”

“Okay, so you might not be part of the 1%, but you’re sort of there.” Beverly’s gaze turns speculative. “You look like someone who comes from old money.”

“In some ways, yes.” Hannibal shares a smile with Will. “It looks like you’re not the only one with a keen insight.”

Will grins. “Nope. It’s why she’s graduating at the top of the class and got accepted into the FBI way ahead of everyone else.”

“A well-deserved recognition, I’m sure.” Hannibal raises his glass of wine for a toast. “Congratulations, Miss Katz.”

Beverly beams. “Thank you.” She turns to Will. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

“Don’t even try,” Will laughs. “You know nothing can ever top an entry into the FBI.”

Beverly rolls her eyes. “Seriously, don’t sell yourself short. You’re doing pretty well yourself.”

“Come on, Bev,” Will chuckles, shaking his head. “Accept the compliment and move on, jeez. There’s no way a job as some professor’s RA is on the same level as the FBI trainee.”

“Well, okay,” Beverly allows, “but you’re not just ‘some professor’s’ RA, are you? You’re under Dr. Richardson! Everyone who works with him is on a fast track to stardom and you know it. The FBI would be dying to have you as their analyst or consultant when Richardson vouches for you since he’s worked on tons of profiles for them.”

Will shrugs, though he doesn’t contend with the point. “Still not as cool as you. Getting to learn how to shoot people on the government’s dime.”

Beverly grins. “Oh, yeah, that part is going to be great.”

Throughout the conversation, Will doesn’t miss the way Hannibal watches Beverly, the man watching their interaction with apparent absorption.

“If you’re that curious about Bev,” Will tells him, “just ask her, now that you have her here.”

The small curl to Hannibal’s lips speaks of his amusement at being caught at his observation, though Will doubts he was trying very hard to conceal it.

Beverly raises a crooked eyebrow and leans forward. “Oh? Have you been asking around about me? So what do you want to know?”

Hannibal chuckles. “I admit I was curious about you, Miss Katz, especially knowing how close you are with Will. I hope you don’t mind my nosiness.”

“None of that ‘Miss Katz’ schtick, please.” Beverly scrunches her nose. “Makes me feel like I’m supposed to be swooning at the table or something. Seriously, call me Beverly or Bev.” She takes a few sips of her drink while she scrutinizes Hannibal.

“Well, I guess I’ll give you a rundown,” she says. “I’m the eldest of three children, my dad’s a financial analyst specializing in trading, my mom’s a high school principal, my brother has gone on a one-year backpacking trip around the world because I guess that’s what the cool kids are doing these days, and my baby sister is currently finishing school. She wants to open a bakery someday.

“As for me, you already know that I’m going to be an FBI trainee soon-ish, so let’s see.” She counts with her fingers as she goes through her imaginary list. “I can hold my breath underwater for two minutes last I checked, I almost got suspended when I was thirteen, heads will roll if you bring me to a pool table or a bowling alley because I will beat everyone at it, and I love kickboxing. I’ve been thinking of getting into _muay thai_ lately, but you know, time is money and all that.”

Beverly grins with a flourish, raising her glass in a mock toast. “So is that enough info for you, or have you looked up all of that already?”

Hannibal smiles in response to Beverly’s cheeky grin, while Will just laughs.

“I didn’t know Grace wanted to open a bakery,” Will quips in.

“Oh yeah, she’s been wearing my mom down over the whole thing,” Beverly chortles. “Since Steven is out there doing who-the-fuck-knows-what on his trip, Grace has been using that as a ‘get out of jail’ card to guilt her into saying yes. I’m guessing Mom is just going to give in one of these days. Perks of being the last child, too. Fewer expectations for her to be a doctor or whatever.”

“A fascinating recount of your background, thank you, Beverly,” Hannibal says.

Beverly laughs. “Yeah, I got more where that came from. As long as you let me eat more of the delicious meals in between our talks.”

Hannibal spreads his palms in a gesture of “be my guest,” sharing a smile with Will. “I wonder at your insinuation that I ‘looked you up’ before inviting you to dinner. Did Will warn you of me beforehand?”

Beverly shrugs. “I figured someone like you would have eyes everywhere. You didn’t hire a PI, did you?”

Hannibal chuckles. “Nothing so crass. I do prefer information straight from the source itself.”

“Smooth. Well, if you find yourself curious about anything, just ask. I really don’t bite, unless someone asks for it.” Beverly winks.

Will rolls his eyes. “Stop flirting with him.”

“What? You jealous, Graham? I can’t flirt with your sugar daddy?”

“Bev!”

Dinner continues in a similar vein for the next few hours, with Beverly and Hannibal taking turns to tease Will in between their meals until the night comes to an end. By then, their bellies are full of food and wine, and Will feels pleasantly buzzed. Judging by Beverly’s reddened cheeks and her lopsided smile, she’s likely feeling the same.

Will is pretty sure Hannibal imbibed the same amount of alcohol as they did, though to be fair his counting ability might be slightly compromised after being plied with so much wine. But Hannibal still looks like his usual unflappable self as they leave the restaurant. Aside from looking slightly ruffled around the edges, he’s steady on his feet, which is more than Will can say for himself at the moment.

Hannibal drops them at their apartment twenty minutes later, the two of them barely standing as they make their way out of the car. Hannibal steps out to escort them, smiling when Beverly shouts, “I’m so drunk!” to the uncaring surroundings. It’s almost 11 PM, and the streets are mostly empty.

Will shakes his head when Beverly turns to give a vigorous wave to Hannibal and a waggle of her eyebrow to Will.

“Get inside, you drunkard!” Will shouts in between his own dizzied laughter.

Beverly flips him off before disappearing inside the building, and Will is left leaning slightly against Hannibal, the man supporting Will’s weight easily. Hannibal is a warm and solid mass against him, one that he is reluctant to part from right now.

Will grins up at Hannibal, marveling at how handsome the man is. “Hi,” he murmurs, taking a deep breath to savor Hannibal’s scent.

Hannibal chuckles, cupping Will’s cheek fondly. “Hello, Will.”

“You look lovely,” Will slurs, leaning into the touch.

“As do you, especially in your new suit.” Hannibal gives Will a chaste kiss. “You should hurry inside.”

Will sighs. He really should, shouldn’t he? “Kiss me again before you go?”

“How could I resist when you ask me so nicely?” Hannibal leans in for another kiss, which is decidedly less chaste.

Will melts against him, letting the man take his weight and sighing into the kiss when it deepens. It feels so good to be held just like this, to have Hannibal’s arms around him, enclosing him and caging him in. _Too many layers,_ his mind supplies. Will paws at Hannibal’s chest then, licking into his mouth to signal just how much Will wants him right now.

Unable to control himself, he rolls himself against Hannibal, groaning when he recognizes the telltale signs that Hannibal is just as affected as he is. Hannibal is already half-hard, their kisses growing more heated at Will’s insistent and inelegant rutting.

In the next second, Hannibal’s arms tighten around Will reflexively before he pulls away. His dark eyes are full of desire, locked onto the sight of Will’s swollen lips. The corner of his mouth curls into a slight snarl when Will whines from the loss before his face settles into a fond expression.

“Will,” Hannibal sighs, mouthing at Will’s neck. “Stop tempting me.”

Will frowns, trying to lean forward for another kiss, though Hannibal thwarts his attempt by pulling away. “Why not?”

“Because I might just take you home with me,” Hannibal purrs.

“Yes.” Will smiles, his eyes closing with the image, desire coursing through him at the words. “I want that.”

“You might at this moment,” Hannibal murmurs, his thumb caressing Will’s face in a hypnotic motion. “But then you would hate me in the morning.”

“I won’t hate you.” Will frowns, opening his eyes again. “Can never hate you.”

Hannibal’s smile is breathtakingly beautiful. “Nevertheless. You’ve set the terms and I’ll abide by them.”

_Terms?_ Will frowns again, wondering why Hannibal is hellbent on rejecting his advances. _What sort of terms—_

“Get a room, you two!” Beverly hollers from the window of the apartment, cackling when she sees the surprised look on their faces. “Will, your face—” She bursts into another fit of laughter.

At the ruckus, a woman pokes her head out from the windows of another apartment. Will recognizes Agnes, their downstairs neighbor, from her disgruntled tone. “Excuse me, do you mind? Some of us are trying to sleep here.”

Beverly giggles and hiccups, waving sheepishly. “Oh hey, A, sorry!”

“That’s Agnes to you,” Agnes grumbles, though her face softens at Beverly’s apologetic wave. She rolls her eyes at Hannibal and Will before closing her windows with another annoyed huff.

Beverly giggles again and puts her index finger to her mouth. “Shush, Will, A’s sleeping.”

Will muffles his laugh with his hand. “Oh my God, you’re so drunk.”

“Am _not,”_ Beverly mock whispers, her voice carrying down to them. She waves at Hannibal, trying to wink and failing rather spectacularly. “Bye, Will’s sugar daddy.”

“Bev!” Will groans, dragging out her name with a long exhale.

She finally disappears with a waggle of her fingers, her soft laughter cut off by the sound of windows closing. Will turns to Hannibal with a shake of his head, still amused at Beverly’s need to tease him at every available chance.

Hannibal is looking at him with fondness, his palm warm against Will’s cheek. “Do I need to force you to return to your apartment?”

Will sighs. “I’m going, I’m going.”

“Good. Congratulations again, Will.”

Will shrugs noncommittally. “Thanks, I guess.”

“Though you look wonderful when you pout, I should warn you it won’t make me give in to your desires. You won’t thank me for it tomorrow.” Hannibal looks at his wristwatch, his sigh sounding forlorn. “Well, I’m afraid I have to be off. Will you call me tomorrow?”

Will nods, already lamenting the loss. To his horror, he can feel a stray tear pooling at the corner of his eyes.

Hannibal frowns at the sight, observant as always. “Will, are you alright?”

Will shakes his head, wiping away the tears. “I’m okay.” He avoids Hannibal’s concerned stare, embarrassed at the stray tears. He must be drunker than he’d initially thought.

Hannibal’s brow clears with an understanding, and an exasperated smile blooms on his face. “Will,” Hannibal says, extending a hand out to push a stray curl behind Will’s ears. “You know I can’t resist you, but I’m respecting your decision to wait.”

Will bites his lips, his cheeks coloring at the reminder. Right. So that’s why Hannibal is pushing him away. In his muddled state, he’d forgotten he was the one who came up with that idea, and now he’s paying for his past self’s stupid rules.

Hannibal smiles. “Go inside, Will. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

This time, Hannibal makes good on his word and steps away to walk to his idling car. Stopping next to it, he turns back to watch Will with a raised eyebrow. Waiting for Will to go inside.

Sighing, Will relents and waves to Hannibal, swaying slightly as he turns to enter his apartment building. He reaches his apartment unit unscathed, though it takes several attempts to get his keys inside the lock. When he finally stumbles into his apartment, he sees that the living room is empty. Beverly has gone to sleep, then.

Will goes over to the windows where he can see the street, and a wide smile blooms on his face when he sees Hannibal still standing by his car. Waiting to see if Will has made it safely, maybe. Whatever the reason, Will opens the window and grins at Hannibal, feeling unaccountably giddy at the sight of him. God, he really is drunk. Hannibal must’ve ordered the best kind of wine to get him _and_ Beverly drunk, which is saying something. Beverly hardly ever gets that drunk.

Hannibal looks up at that moment, smiling as he waves to Will.

“Bye,” Will murmurs, not daring to raise his voice for fear of Agnes poking her head out a second time.

Hannibal seems to hear it, anyway; his smile grows wider at Will’s parting word. He spares a last glance at Will before he steps inside the car. The limousine drives away in the next second, leaving Will staring at its afterimage until his heart is bursting with how much he misses Hannibal already.

The next morning greets him with a headache and the growing awareness that he’d made a fool of himself last night.

“Fucking ow.” Will groans, his eyes burning from the glare of the afternoon light. He turns to his side to avoid the worst of it, and that helps somewhat. There’s a budding headache at the back of his head, and he’s been hungover enough times to know that he should wait until that subsides.

Which leaves him on the bed grappling with the embarrassing realization:

_Fuck,_ he thinks. _Did I throw myself at Hannibal last night?_

“Oh my god,” he moans, horrified when bits and pieces of last night’s parting scene return to him incrementally. God, he _did_ fucking throw himself on Hannibal last night, practically begging the man to take him home—to _Hannibal’s_ home. He winces, and that only makes the headache worse.

He wants to shout at himself for allowing himself to beg so shamelessly last night. But then again, it’s not really his fault what he says when he’s drunk, especially when Hannibal was the reason he got drunk in the first place. But _fuck,_ it’s still so embarrassing to recall just what had tumbled out of his mouth yesterday. Even more so when he recalls how he’d practically humped Hannibal in his search for more contact with the older man in front of his apartment building.

_“Fuck!”_ Will groans into his pillows, cringing and wishing he could erase his memories.

Though honestly, it’s not his fault that he practically melted when Hannibal kissed him last night with how often the man touches him at every available opportunity after Will had dropped his ultimatum several weeks ago.

In the last few weeks after Will’s “negotiation” with Hannibal, the older man had taken the whole thing as some sort of challenge to show Will how much he intends to: (a) either embarrass Will to death or, (b) edge Will to death.

Trust Hannibal to turn his ultimatum into some sort of game of conquest.

They’ve been seeing each other a few times each week, trying to see what kind of relationship could come out of the mess that was their first meeting. It sounds juvenile to call them “dates” because honestly, who the hell just “dates” a CEO of a company?

Granted, Hannibal’s fame is more of the quiet kind. He’s given several TED talks in between his seminars, and Will has seen at least one of them. There’s no denying that Hannibal is an extremely charismatic man, his quiet assurance and confidence an addictive traits that most people wish they could have. Little wonder that a small subset of the community has idolized him from his brief public appearances. It’s a weird little cult, this whole mindfulness business of his, that’s what it is.

But when Will is with Hannibal, none of that matters. With Hannibal’s attention solely on him, it’s easy to fall into step with the man and let himself be swept away. There’s a reason Will had slept with Hannibal the moment they met, and his good looks were only one part of it. Hannibal is a charismatic man who knows how to treat people well, knows how to treat _Will_ well. He knows how charming he could be and uses it to his full advantage. Will can’t even fault him for it. He turns into putty in Hannibal’s hand every single time the man enters his orbit, and that’s without the entanglement of sex woven into it.

Their dates might just be them having coffee at one of those hole-in-the-wall cafes in the neighborhood, just the two of them enjoying each other’s company in the pockets of time they could spare for one another. Hannibal would use it as an opportunity to gift Will something every time without fail. It doesn’t matter that they’re meeting somewhere public; Hannibal has no shame, and Will is left to feel it for both of them.

Will had even kept a tally of these gifts, just because he could: Sneakers (“I noticed your soles have worn out”), another suit in yet another color (“Suits are practical things to have”), socks (this one Hannibal hadn’t bothered to explain, oddly enough), a set of skincare and expensive cologne that smells faintly of lemon zest and vanilla (Hannibal merely smirked at Will’s raised eyebrows), and a new wallet (“please don’t pretend that what you have right now is a proper wallet”). All these were just in the last three weeks.

And he doesn’t have the heart to say no, not anymore. He justifies it with the thought that they’re practical gifts, just like the new phone and the previous suits Hannibal had gotten for him.

(In truth, Will _really_ enjoys being pampered by Hannibal, though he can’t bring himself to admit that aloud just yet.)

Predictably, Hannibal would also use these dates to find opportunities to touch Will in some ways. The touches themselves were mostly innocent if Will hadn’t suspected that the intentions behind them were decidedly not so.

Hannibal keeps true to his word to uphold the end of his bargain, but he also makes it clear that he’s looking forward to Will’s graduation every time. The sentiment is usually delivered along with teasing looks and equally teaching touches: A smirk or a curl of Hannibal’s lips at a suggestive word, their legs grazing against each other under the table, Hannibal’s hand reaching out to tuck a stray curl behind Will’s ears and lingering on Will’s cheek a few seconds afterward, Hannibal leaning in to inhale the scent of Will’s new cologne as an excuse to get into Will’s personal space, Hannibal’s hand low on Will’s back as he steers them through the streets on their occasional walks through town, and so on.

The apparent intent behind those touches always sends Will into a flustered mess, Hannibal’s claim as clear as day when people see their gift-giving rituals and the undeniable intimacy inherent in those soft touches. No one in their right mind would mistake them for a parent and his child when they see the two of them at their little corner of the cafe, not with the way Hannibal’s eyes devour Will and making him blush with it.

Whenever they part, it would be with a soft kiss, Will leaning into it eagerly every time. He might have set the rules of their dates, but even he has to admit that a kiss is always a pleasant way to end them. A firm reassurance on Hannibal’s part that he wants Will just as much as Will wants him; a grounding touch that lasts only as long as Will wants it to.

Though Will is always left wanting more, he always forces himself to pull away because to give in to his own desire would be to lose a war he has unwittingly started. Obviously, he had been too inebriated last night to rein in his baser desires.

The fact that Will has been keeping a tally of all these tantalizing touches means he’s at the losing end in the war, however. Little wonder that he was at his breaking point last night. He idly wonders what it would feel like to die of blue balls. Uncomfortable, probably.

Sighing to himself, he finally decides to brave the real world and get out of bed, his blue balls be damned.

A few aspirins and a shower later, Will emerges into the living room, noting that it’s close to lunchtime now than it is to brunch.

Beverly is sipping tea while she’s reading a book that lays outstretched on her lap, though she looks up when Will comes in. She grins at his appearance. “Hey sleeping beauty, finally up, huh?”

“Don’t pretend as if you hadn’t just woken up.”

Beverly snickers. “Guilty as charged, but at least I had breakfast.”

Will rolls his eyes and busies himself with making something to eat. A simple sandwich that doesn’t make him want to vomit up anything sounds doable, so that’s what he opts for. Miraculously, they still have some avocados left, even if they’re past the ripening stage already.

“Avocado toast?” Beverly wrinkles her nose as she comes to the kitchen to top up water for her tea. “Very hipster of you.”

“It’s the easiest thing to make with what we have.”

“Eh, you’re just lazy. BTW, I totally remember what happened last night.”

“Stop talking like you’re texting someone.” Will bites into his toast over the sink. “What do you remember?”

“You making out with Hannibal for everyone to see.” Beverly cackles, evading the threat of Will’s swat by getting out of the kitchen. She’s clearly not done tormenting Will, though, since she leans against the kitchen counter across from him to continue, “You were totally trying to climb into his pants last night.”

Will sighs. He really doesn’t need the reminder of what happened last night yet again. “I was drunk.”

“So was I,” is Beverly’s gleeful rejoinder. “But you don’t see me trying to climb any other attractive person nearby.”

“Yeah, well, you obviously didn’t try hard enough,” Will grumbles.

Beverly crows with laughter. “I was surprised to see you’re still here this morning. Thought he would’ve whisked you away or something.”

Will chews his toast, shrugging listlessly. “He probably would’ve before this.”

“Before this?” Beverly raises an eyebrow. “Explain.”

Sighing, Will stares at Beverly. “Remember the last time I went to his house to sort out all this mess?”

She snorts. “Yeah, of course I remember. You went right after I gave you brilliant advice about making relationship works.”

“Yeah, well, I kind of gave him a ‘deal or no deal’ kind of thing back then.” Will swallows around another mouthful of his toast. “We sort of agreed to take things slow after… well, after everything.”

Beverly turns thoughtful at that, looking impressed. “Well done. You setting your boundaries, Graham?”

Will snorts. “Something like that.” Never mind that he was trying to climb Hannibal like a tree last night.

“Well, good for you.” Beverly tilts her head, smiling at him. “You really like him, huh?”

Will frowns. “Why do you say that?”

Beverly shrugs. “The Will I knew before this wouldn’t have bothered to make this work. You would’ve just cut off all ties and forget the whole thing ever happened before swallowing your pride and going to him to sort out any misunderstandings.”

Well. She’s not completely wrong. “I tried to make things work with Alana,” he argues, though it comes out half-hearted.

“Yeah, but you also kind of gave up on it after a while,” she points out. “Not that I blame you, with how she treated you. But… you know, I just think that you wouldn’t try this hard if the guy wasn’t worth your while.”

Will swallows his words and stares down at the remaining toast on his plate.

There’s some truth to Beverly’s words, of course. Will likes Hannibal a lot. But there’s an undercurrent of fear still that Hannibal will drop him like a hot potato if Will isn’t as “easy” as he would like, which was what drove him to issue his ultimatum. Truth be told, he enjoys being with Hannibal, and he’d like to see if it’s possible for their relationship to be more than their explosive chemistry and their easy camaraderie.

“I like him,” he says after a brief silence. He avoids Beverly’s knowing gaze and chews the rest of his toast, reflecting on the fact that perhaps Hannibal is trying to make this work too. Why else would the man bother with this whole charade otherwise?

Unfortunately, it’s not a question that Will or Beverly can answer, and Will is left to his thoughts until he finishes his toast. Swallowing, he turns to Beverly, who’s still looking at him expectantly while she drinks.

“Do you, uh, like him?” Will asks. “You know, as a person.”

Beverly smirks. “Wow, I’ve never known you to ask me for approval on your potential partners.”

Will’s face colors with embarrassment. “I’m just trying to see if you think he’s worth my time.”

“I’m just joshing with you, Will,” Beverly says with a fond smile. “I like him. He seems to care about you, for what it’s worth. I mean, I’ve only met him properly last night, but I liked what I saw. He’s a little weird, but then so are you, so.”

Will scoffs. “Thanks. Weird? In what way?”

Beverly tilts her head, considering. “I don’t know, he’s a little intense? Like when he focuses on you, he hangs on to every word and mapping your every quirk, you know? It’s a little unnerving to have that kind of attention on you. And he’s very perceptive,” she muses. “He pays attention to a lot of the little details that normal people won’t bother with, so there’s an edge to him that suggests you shouldn’t mess with someone like him...” She shrugs. “Like I said, intense.”

Will nods. “Oh yeah, I’m with you on that. Especially on the perceptive part.” He laughs. “I think he sees right through me sometimes, which is kind of scary.”

“Yeah, that can be daunting,” Beverly agrees. “But hey, if you really like him and you’re trying to make it work, you’re already halfway there, right?”

“I guess.” He gives her a noncommittal shrug and changes the subject. “You want to grab some lunch outside?”

“Or we can order in. You still look a little peaky. Don’t want you to vomit all over me if we’re going somewhere.”

Will laughs. “Fine, let’s order something.”

In the days building up to Will’s graduation ceremony, Hannibal peruses the shops and tailors he typically frequents in search of suitable gifts for the boy.

After three days, he’s amassed a pile of gifts that he has yet to sift through. Most of them had been impulsive purchases; things he thought Will would appreciate, or things that would look good on Will. Knowing Will, he would most likely object to half of them just to be contrary, while the rest would be received with a blush and a soft thank you.

Hannibal smiles, recalling all the other times he’d met Will bearing such gifts. In a way, he had been testing their boundaries as well, trying to see if the gifts would be met with resistance each time. Much to his pleasant surprise, Will had received all of them with a quiet sort of pleasure, though he took care to put up a front. Hannibal pretends he doesn’t see the front for what it is; a facade that could hide the embarrassment and genuine pleasure at being plied with small gifts.

Of course, the small gifts are also building up to grander ones, and what better time to present Will with those other than at his graduation ceremony?

Perhaps he is leaning towards “excessive” on the gift-giving scale now. He glances at the paper bags next to him as Randall drives him home, wondering if he could sneakily drop some of them off so that Will wouldn’t notice their appearance until it’s too late.

“You done with your shopping, boss?”

Hannibal’s eyes snap to Randall’s through the rearview mirror. Randall’s tone sounds amused, even if his eyes reveal little. Hannibal has learned his driver’s cues after so many years together, and he doesn’t mind the gentle teasing as much as he would have if it had come from a presuming acquaintance.

Hannibal smiles. “Perhaps.” He doesn’t mention that some of his custom-made orders have yet to come in.

Randall chuckles and trains his stare ahead as he navigates the streets of Baltimore. “What a torch you’re carrying for this Mr. Graham.”

Hannibal opts to stare out the windows instead of answering. It’s true that he hasn’t been driven to such excess by other lovers before this. While this had worried him initially, at the moment he feels settled with the knowledge instead. There’s nothing wrong with indulging in his whims and wants, especially after Will has proven to be so malleable to them.

In fact, he’s been tampering with his baser needs to respect Will’s newly found boundaries. He enjoys the challenge and appreciates that Will has drawn the line in the sand and told Hannibal what he wants. This relationship is a very novel experience for both of them.

If anything, Hannibal thinks he should thank Will for slowing down the pace, especially after their disastrous disagreement. It’s been such a long time since Hannibal has entertained the thought of a relationship that he’s at a loss to figure out what it would even look like. As it is, he feels like a child who’s recently discovered something wondrous, longing to keep the discovery locked inside a special place so that no one else can share it with him.

Perhaps one day.

Right now, he’s enjoying learning what else he can get away with in his quest to lavish and pamper his sweet boy.

Shaking himself out of his reflections, Hannibal turns his curious eyes back to Randall. “What do you make of him?” he asks, watching the way Randall reacts to the question.

There’s a minute shrug to his shoulder when Randall meets Hannibal’s eyes for a split second. “I don’t know, he didn’t leave much of an impression on me, if I’m honest.”

Hannibal smiles. “You don’t approve of him, then?”

Randall shrugs again, looking wary at the line of questioning. He avoids Hannibal’s gaze as he mumbles, “Not my place to approve or disapprove.”

A smart answer. Hannibal doesn’t abide by rudeness, and he also doesn’t appreciate any slight against Will.

He lets the uncomfortable silence pass and returns his attention to the scenery passing by. It’s the peak of spring at the moment, and there are sights of small groups of people enjoying the pleasant weather. In a few more days, he would join the crowd at the GWU’s graduation ceremony, where he would see Will once again.

The time for their deal is soon coming to a close, and while Hannibal looks forward to being able to touch Will to his heart’s content again, there’s also something very diverting at the thought of prolonging their anticipation.

It’s surreal to think that Will is finally graduating, considering how long he’s been working up to this.

There’s excitement in the air as people rush about once the ceremony ends, the graduates dispersing out of their seats to find families and friends. The whole thing had lasted for almost two hours, but even the rising humidity and prolonged exposure to the sun hadn’t dampened the graduates’ enthusiasm as they mill about the wide square that houses their ceremony.

The place is packed with people by the time Will cuts his way through the throng, trying to find the landmark that he and Beverly had agreed to meet at once the whole thing has finished. The frenetic energy is infectious; Will passes by families and friends cheering and taking photos with one another with the graduates, graduates hugging and congratulating each other, and several graduates who are singing along to the band’s rendition of GWU’s fight song. He’s glad when he reaches the shade of the trees as he makes his way to the statue just outside of the square’s perimeter.

He takes out his phone, frowning when he barely gets a signal. The lowered signal is expected given the size of the crowd, but that doesn’t make it less annoying. He holds up his phone higher, hoping it would magically receive some sort of signal so he can call Beverly or—

The phone rings and Will answers it hastily when he sees Hannibal’s name.

“Hannibal?” Will asks, ignoring the crowds of people passing by as he cranes his neck to see if Hannibal might be nearby. A fruitless effort for now, so he slumps back against a tree.

“Will.” Hannibal’s voice sounds distant, and the reception is still awful, but at least he can make out what Hannibal is saying. “Where are you?”

“Uh, remember I told you about the dog statue? It’s near the entrance, so—” Will sighs. “Hold on, let me send you a picture.”

“And your location, if you can figure out how,” Hannibal says, his tone teasing.

Will rolls his eyes. “I’m not _that_ technologically challenged.”

He spends the next few feverish minutes messaging Hannibal and Beverly his location, though Beverly will probably be there much later. She’s likely busy taking a few photos with her family before she comes to find him, so he scans the crowd for Hannibal instead.

With no other living close relatives, he hadn’t expected anyone to be there for his graduation ceremony. If it wasn’t for the promise of Beverly and Hannibal in attendance, he would’ve blown off the whole thing altogether. But the sight of Hannibal detaching himself from the rest of the crowd as he makes his way to Will is enough to make him grateful that he’d ditched that plan.

His cheeks hurt from the wide smile on his face. Hannibal’s answering smile is wide and full of teeth, the man leaning in immediately into Will’s personal space to kiss his cheek.

“Congratulations, Will,” Hannibal says, pulling back to caress Will’s damp curls from his forehead.

Will takes in Hannibal’s appearance with some amusement. “How are you not dying in your three-piece suit? Seriously.”

“It is a little stifling,” Hannibal admits, stepping back. “As are the robes you’re wearing, I’m guessing.”

Will shrugs. “It’s not too bad, honestly. Plus, it’s only a one-time thing, whereas your suit seems like a permanent choice.”

A raise of the faint eyebrows. “You make it sound like a terrible choice.”

Will grins and leans in closer to pat the lapels of Hannibal’s suit. “I like how they look on you.”

Hannibal chuckles, the crinkles around his eyes deepening as he regards Will fondly. “Should I thank you for the compliment?”

Will smiles. “I’m just saying, you stand out like a sore thumb, dressing the way you do. I didn’t say I didn’t like it though.”

Hannibal hums, raising another unimpressed eyebrow. “In any case… can I take you away for an early dinner?”

“Oh, I’m actually still waiting for—”

“Will!”

“—Beverly,” Will finishes, smiling and turning towards her voice.

Beverly appears with the rest of her family in tow, sans her brother as far as Will can make out. Beverly beams as she hugs Will, yelling her congratulations enthusiastically.

“Thanks, Bev,” Will laughs, pulling away to greet the rest of Beverly’s family. The atmosphere is frenzied with excitement still, though it’s more bearable when they’ve broken into smaller groups. Will accepts every single congratulations thrown his way and happily accepts the offer of hugs from Beverly’s parents.

They form a loose circle around each other, Beverly immediately launching into the fact that their family is planning to have dinner and that Hannibal and Will are invited to join them. Hannibal shares a smile with Will, looking thoroughly amused by everything as he observes each member of the Katz family.

“Beverly,” Elicia admonishes with a laugh, “slow down and breathe.”

Beverly rolls her eyes. “We have to beat the crowd of people or all the good places will be fully booked.”

“We’ve booked one already, you nerd,” Grace teases, bumping her shoulder against Beverly’s. “Chill, we still have another hour before we have to be there.”

“Oooh, where are we going?”

“You know Red Dragon—?”

“Oh, excellent choice.” Beverly grins at Grace’s annoyed look and turns to Will and Hannibal. “You two are coming, right? Will is an honorary Katz by now,” she tells Hannibal, “so it’s only right that I invite you.”

At Beverly’s words, all eyes turn to Hannibal. The man himself looks unruffled by the scrutiny, used to it by now.

Will huffs. “Bev, seriously.”

“Oh,” Elicia says, smiling at Hannibal, “are you Will’s father?”

Will is pretty sure his ears are burning right now, and he throws a discrete glare at Beverly, who grins unrepentantly.

Beverly snickers. “Of some sort.”

“I am not,” Hannibal replies at the same time, throwing an amused smile at Beverly.

Elicia tilts her head, trying to find some resemblance between Will and Hannibal while Will fights to control his blush. Her brow furrows in concentration. “Will’s uncle, then?”

Beverly’s grin only broadens when Will glares daggers in her general direction.

Hannibal smiles, looking perfectly comfortable with their line of questioning. “No, I am not. I believe I should let Will answer,” he says, unflappable as ever when he throws a small smile at Will.

Now he’s pretty sure he’s blushing furiously, with how warm his face feels. Everyone turns their interested gaze towards him, except for Beverly, who has the widest shit-eating grin as she watches everything unfold. (In his mind, Will promises retribution.)

Will sighs, not seeing a way out of this. “He’s… I guess I could say he’s my partner?”

Beverly laughs and waggles her eyebrows. “Yeah, boyfriend doesn’t quite cut it, eh?”

Will sends her another glare that hopefully translates to “I will deal with you later.”

Grace is looking at Hannibal with a sort of wonder in her expression, while Alex and Elicia look stunned for about five seconds before they smile at Hannibal.

Alex extends his hand to Hannibal. “Nice to meet you, I’m Alex Katz, uh, Will’s honorary father now, I suppose.”

Hannibal shakes Alex’s hand. “Likewise. I’m Hannibal Lecter.” He turns his attention to Elicia next, extending his hand with his palm out. He smiles when Elicia takes it, though Elicia looks almost startled when Hannibal brings her hand to his lips for a kiss. “Nice to meet you as well, Mrs…?”

Elicia preens and giggles, looking pleased at the attention. “Oh, please. Call me Elicia.” She turns to appraise Will and Hannibal then, smiling widely at the sight. “You two look very dashing together.”

Will smiles, fond and relieved at their quick acceptance. “Thank you.”

Beverly winks at Hannibal. “Smooth. So now that introductions are over with, are you joining us for dinner?”

“Excuse me,” Grace says, “you didn’t introduce me, hello?”

Beverly rolls her eyes. “Oh, right, this is my baby sister, Grace. If anyone wants some tester cookies, hit her up, I guess.”

“Wow, thanks,” Grace says, voice dripping with sarcasm. She turns to Will and Hannibal, looking intrigued. “So you two are _together_ -together, huh?”

“Grace!” Elicia rebukes her with a soft swat on her arm.

“What? I’m just asking what you two were thinking!” Grace rubs her arm mulishly.

“We are 'together’, as you put it,” Hannibal says, his smile widening. He addresses Beverly’s invitation then. “Will and I have made plans for tonight. But I’d be happy to cancel them if Will would prefer to join your company, of course.”

Hannibal winds an arm around Will’s shoulder while he’s talking, bringing them closer until their shoulders touch. With Will admitting their relationship, he obviously sees no need for tact anymore. Will squirms with the attention, though he can’t say he’s not pleased at the way Hannibal presses against him.

_Asshole,_ Will thinks with part exasperation and part fondness. He’s practically reverberating with the need to be alone with Hannibal, but trust the man to make him choose right now.

Elicia saves him from choosing, however, waving her hand as she smiles at the two them. “Oh, it’s no trouble. We were just thinking of having a family dinner. We wouldn’t dare to intrude on your plans for tonight. Besides, we’ll be here in DC for a week, since Beverly has promised to drive us around for some sightseeing.”

Beverly puffs up her shoulders and grins. “That I did. You two are welcomed to join us. I’m an awesome tour guide if I may say so myself.”

“Yeah, I’m not so sure about that,” Grace says in a mock whisper.

Beverly pinches Grace in retaliation. “Pay no attention to the woman behind the curtain.”

“Ow! Seriously?”

“That’s what you get for telling lies,” Beverly says sweetly.

“Girls.” Alex shakes his head at them before turning to Will and Hannibal. “Listen, you two go and enjoy yourself. I’m sure Beverly will drag you to meet us later this week.”

Hannibal chuckles. “I have no doubts of her powers of persuasion.”

“Congratulations again, Will,” Elicia says, smiling warmly at the two of them. “We’ll let you get back to your celebrations.”

“Yes, congratulations, Will,” Alex says. “Our offer for that Manhattan trip still stands, of course.”

“Thank you,” Will says, surprising himself at how heartfelt his words are. “And congratulations too, Bev. I’ll, uh, call you later.”

Beverly gives him a knowing look. “Uh-huh. See you two later!”

With that, Beverly takes off, pulling her family along with her in their rush to get to their dinner plan. Will stares fondly after them in the aftermath, Hannibal a warm weight against him still.

The people milling around them are too busy celebrating to pay them any attention, so Will takes the chance to link his hand with Hannibal’s. Hannibal smiles at the gesture, lacing their fingers together and squeezing Will’s hand gently. Beaming at Hannibal, Will happily lets himself be led to wherever Hannibal will take him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RL & fandom are on fire right now, so have yet another self-indulgent chapter that I wrote to cope with things (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*✲ﾟ*｡⋆


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